Identity is Everything
by MixedBreedMaiya
Summary: The worlds have been reunited for some time now, and all is well - except that the Circle Assassins have a new recruit; one that's familiar to the Lezareno's own president. But she doesn't remember him, and he must help to bring her back. RainexRegal
1. Prologue

"Do you understand?"

"…Yes."

"I'm glad. We can't afford to fail again."

Raising an eyebrow, she accepted the long parcel handed to her, gloved hands closing easily around the leather-bound case. "This is yours to use," she was informed. Slowly she unwrapped it. She dropped the leather wrap to the floor idly, and looked the weapon over up and down.

"A staff," she stated. Long, thin, and sturdy. The mahogany wood was polished to perfection, and a few feathers adorned the top, right under the curved fork. Between the tips two sleek branches of wood there was held a violet gem, matching her eyes in color and sinister mystery.

Experimentally, she gave it a slow swipe, then spun it once. It was easy to handle, and still not flimsy. "A very nice staff."

"According to the research we've done, this is your weapon of choice. We will not provide anything less than the best to our prized members. This will be more than sufficient, I'm quite sure." Green eyes narrowed slightly in a smirk.

"Quite." She lifted her gaze to behold the man speaking to her. Black hair short cropped, rather unevenly, at his chin. Thin and pitiful in appearance, like he had never seen any of this action he was sending her into. But then, he probably hadn't, she mused. He liked to think he was important in this menial position. But the real indispensable people were those such as herself. Those who got their hands dirty.

He took a step closer to her, so that his nose nearly touched hers – he was no taller than her own height. "I'm glad we understand each other, Flare." He used the name bestowed upon her by the Circle. Her real name was long forgotten. It no longer existed.

"Do you understand me, kitty-cat?" A smirk tugged at her own unpainted lips as his face darkened with irritation. But he went on as though she hadn't spoken.

"You and I are a lot alike. I think we're going to be good friends, when you come around—" Claw was cut off as Flare gathered his collar in her balled fist and thrust the frail man against the wall beside them.

It was her turn to stick her face into his. "Don't ever compare me to a flea-bitten alley cat like you, Claw. We are _nothing _alike, do you hear me?"

"Careful, Flare. You'll get yourself into trouble, handling a superior like this," he hissed. "I outrank you. I was here long before you arrived, and I will be here long after you're gone. You're the alley cat."

"You may 'outrank me' in terms of title, but I know Fang would thank me for running you off. All you do is carry messages. Your title may sound more impressive, _Cat's Claw_, but it's only to pacify your ego and keep you from whining any more than you always do." Only highly ranked individuals took on two parts to their nickname.

Flare shoved herself away from him, leaving him a half-crumpled mess against the wall. She reached up to brush silvery hair from her eyes, and straightened her shirt with dignity. As she turned, resettling her grip on her new staff, he spoke again, menacingly.

"You don't even have a past. You don't have memories to fall back on. All alone, a single isolated star in the vast night sky."

She halted, but did not turn. "You're wrong." She had memories… Just not many of them. "But as far as insults go… You ought to work on something a little better than that."

The half-elven woman flicked out the back of her black cloak, and started walking again. …So she didn't recall anything between her tormented childhood and the Circle taking her in as a young woman. So she didn't even know her real name – she didn't need that anyway. She didn't need anything but the Circle. That was her life, and as far as she was concerned it always had been and always would be.

…She had a mission to complete. A target to obtain. Let morons like Claw scamper around with their heads held high in the safety of the base; she knew her value in Fang's sight. That was all that mattered.

Still, though. What had happened after her childhood?


	2. Tranquility Lost

It was not easy keeping a company and a resort from collapsing in on themselves - but it was a challenge one man considered a privilege to undertake.

Regal Bryant leaned forward on the low wall encircling the Lezareno's Sky Terrace, watching the waves lap idly against the sands of Altamira. There wasn't much of a breeze this afternoon, and thus the ocean was calm and the mood was very lazy. He had come up from his office for a bit of fresh sea air, and a break from seemingly endless paperwork. When one gets to mingling a novel one was reading the night before with the serious issues at hand regarding the financial status of one's company… One knows it is time for a break.

He looked downward, folding his arms across the warm stone. Since the reunification of the world, he had unbound his hands and accepted his past – as much as he could bring himself to do. His long blue tresses he had shortened a bit, and now had in a neat nobleman's braid down his back. Altogether, he was a much tamer and more seemly man in appearance than the first time he'd emerged from prison in sixteen years.

The president took a few more minutes to indulge in the quiet sluggishness that hung in the atmosphere before he turned around. There was Alicia's memorial, brightly lit and trim as he was in the afternoon sun. Thriving flowers encircled the entire terrace – all kinds of flowers. Every flower she had enjoyed was somewhere on this roof, and he cared for the little garden very avidly. No one else was to touch these blossoms, not even employees. It was just one thing he wanted to do himself. One thing he'd do for her.

Closing his eyes briefly and bowing his head toward the engraved stone once in an almost ritualistic habit, he pushed himself lightly away from the wall and headed for the elevator. It was a good day today, he felt. Though amidst the heaviness in the air, Regal could also feel the sense that something would happen. Good or bad, he didn't know; he tended toward the former, personally, but maybe that was just his good mood.

So it was with a contented heart that he descended back into the artificial lights and quiet buzz of his beloved company. "George," he greeted his vice-president warmly upon entering his office.

"Ah, Master Regal." The older man returned the tidings in a similar fashion. "A nice day, I suppose?"

"Very nice. I believe I'll take a walk along the beach when we're through for the day. You should think about doing the same; I think you'd enjoy it." He slipped into his chair, glancing quickly over the neatly ordered papers on his desk.

"It's good to see you in high spirits, sir."

"Thus far I have had nothing happen to dampen them, and I would like it to continue that way. No bad news, I hope."

"Nothing yet."

"I don't like that 'yet,' George." Regal flicked an amused glanced up at the other. George returned it in a little smile.

"Everything is running smoothly, Master Regal. I'm certain it will continue that way. If you'll excuse me, I promised to look over the new employees." With that, George bowed himself out of the room. The duke returned his gaze to the desk with a quiet chuckle. Yes, this day was a good one.

That evening, he did just as he had said he would. Regal took a stroll on the sands as the sun was beginning to lower toward the horizon. He loved to watch the sun set over the water, particularly on _his _beach. Call it a matter of pride.

Finally he settled on a secluded strip of the beach, just gazing out as the horizon reddened and the bright circle slipped further and further out of sight. His peaceful reverie was rather abruptly broken, however, by an enormous flash of light somewhere in the near distance beside him.

His head snapped around in that direction as his eyes caught the flare, and his once lofty spirit fell with an anxious crash. The light had come from the hotel. Something was wrong there. At once he was off, heedless of how odd he must look trotting through the town.

Up the stairs to the boardwalk, across the cobblestone, and toward the huge building near the city gates he went. Already people were gathered around outside, though none stood very close. They were all too wary of the mysterious flash, and with good reason.

Regal carefully made his way through the crowd, gently nudging one frightened child out of his path. He ascended the stairs leading to the great glass doors, near which several of the maids and the receptionist stood, all equally shaky.

"What happened?" he asked, gravely. "Is everyone alright?"

"L-Lord Bryant," the receptionist acknowledged with a respectful nod that he waved off. Now wasn't the time for formalities. "We're not exactly certain, sir, on either account. At least, not yet. Some say they saw someone suspicious lurking around guest rooms on each floor. There have been reports that she – it's said to be a woman, but I don't know – appeared to be looking for something. The best we can figure is that she caused the flash. We have people searching every inch of the interior and the surrounding area for anyone conspicuous, as well as some checking on all the guests still inside. I don't believe anyone was hurt, sir. But we don't know yet."

A frown settled onto his features. "…What would she have been after, skulking about the guest rooms?"

"Perhaps a patron, my lord," squeaked a maid, her voice high and quiet out of nerves. "Perhaps she was after a guest."

"I don't like that idea," he stated, grimly. "But it is a possibility we mustn't ignore. …Lila." Regal addressed the receptionist again. "I'll get the authorities over here. We'll go through Altamira with a fine-tooth comb to get to the bottom of this. Until it's settled, however, I want security tightened in and around this building. Keep a close eye on who goes in or out. And I want to know if anything or anyone is missing or hurt."

"Yes, sir." Lila ushered the young women away from the door to speak with the few officers who had shown up on their own. Regal looked up at the tall structure, his brow creased. So much for a good thing, he mused humorlessly. He didn't like this… Didn't like it at all.


	3. Maybe?

Well, that had been easy. Almost too easy, in fact. Flare donned her black cloak, though she did not pull up the hood. She didn't want to appear suspicious, after all. After that light show, the town was in mild chaos. She didn't need to attract any attention to herself.

The half-elf strolled along Altamira's boardwalk, one hand in her pocket, balled around her prize. She had been sent merely to extract something from one of the rooms – why Fang cared about a simple locket was beyond her. Nevertheless, she would do as she was told, for it was her obligation to comply.

She glanced in amusement back over her shoulder where people were milling about on the hotel steps, going in and out and trying to figure out what had happened. This meant, however, that she wasn't paying attention. Consequently, she collided with another person.

With a yelp, Flare lost her balance. She went sprawling to the side, quickly unclasping her cloak from around her neck. It was stuck under her, and pulled too tightly around her windpipe. With one hand she broke her fall; the other was still tightly gripping the bauble in her pocket.

"Ah – I'm sorry… I should have been watching where I was going. Are you alright?" The man to whom the deep voice belonged offered his hand down to her, though she was looking away from him.

Flare turned to meet his gaze with a simply put, "Yes." She accepted his help, looking him over and sizing him up quickly. His appearance was unmistakable – she had certainly studied his likeness long enough. He could be none other than Regal Bryant, Duke of Tethe'alla and president of the Lezareno Company.

Evidently, he had been studying her face, too, as something in his changed. He blinked at her. "Raine?" he asked, sounding surprised, though not altogether displeased. "Is that really you?"

Raine? Who in the world was Raine? She frowned at him. "…I'm afraid you have me mistaken with someone else, my lord." She extracted her hand from his – she needed to get out of there. Prolonged social contact wasn't ideal for a member of the Circle.

"I would recognize you anywhere. You may have let your hair lengthen, but your face is still the same, as is your voice. It has not been so long as to erase you from my memory." Bryant appeared to think this a joke, as he allowed a tiny smile to play upon his lips.

"Lord Bryant, I assure you – I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. I have never had the pleasure of meeting you in person, nor have I ever even been inside this resort before today. It is purely coincidence that I resemble the woman you seek. Please excuse me; I'm late for a rendezvous with an acquaintance of mine." Flare made the smallest of bows, and turned to go.

It was his turn to frown. "…Raine… What's wrong?" he asked, lowering his voice to speak for her ears only. "Are you in trouble?"

_I will be,_ she thought dryly, _if you don't shut up. _"I told you, I'm _not _the woman you think I am. I don't know how to convince you, other than to repeat my claims. I do not know you personally, and my name is not Raine." She paused for a moment, then added, "It's Kara." If fabricating a name got this dog off her back, she was all for it.

Bryant watched her in silent thought for a few moments, looking a little concerned. He was worried about her, and it unnerved her the way he looked at her like she was a dear friend. "…I see," he finally replied, lifting his voice back to a normal tone. "I'm sorry; it seems I was, indeed, mistaken. Please, accept my humble apologies. I won't hold you up any longer." He stepped to the side, gesturing her politely past him. His gaze remained uneasy and worried, though. He didn't believe her. She couldn't worry about that at the moment, however. She just needed to get out of there. She flashed him a plastic smile and passed him without a word.

That was just great. Just blooming great. Her face was now very well-known to the most influential man in all of Altamira. How did she know he didn't already suspect her of having something to do with that incident? How did she know his behavior hadn't all been an act designed to keep her there long enough to commit her appearance to memory so as to report her to authorities later? She was in for it now. Claw would never let her live it down. It was disgraceful.

Flare handed the locket over to her contact on the beach as quickly as she could. She had to hurry herself to avoid keeping the man waiting. She did not inform him of her little slip up, however. That, she would save for Fang himself. Maybe that way it wouldn't get around the entire organization via Claw's big mouth.

The delivery made, she headed next for the docks. Her orders were to complete her mission, and then return at once to HQ. As she passed through the crowds and weaved around the different boathouses, though, she was taken once more by surprise.

She yelped (though it went unheard) as she was tugged behind one of said equipment sheds. There she was pinned gently against the hidden back wall, struggling fiercely to free herself.

"Raine! Calm down!" a voice murmured urgently in her ear. She paused at the familiar sound and raised her eyes to behold the Duke once again. He held both of her shoulders, keeping her in place.

"Release me at once," she growled, straining in vain against his grasp.

"Tell me what's going on. Raine, your eyes are a dead giveaway – I _know _you. Now please. Tell me what's wrong. Why are you fighting me? Why are you denying your identity? Is someone chasing you? Are you in danger? I want to help you." He shook her lightly by the shoulders to accentuate his claim.

"I have already told you what's going on, Bryant. Now let me go, or I will have you reported." Flare glared white hot needles at him, not understanding nor caring for his puzzled and ever anxious expression.

Something seemed to come to mind, and his brow knitted as he asked, "Who do you think you are?"

"I think I am a woman being held against her will."

"No. I mean… Who are you? Your name, your race, your home…"

"I _told _you. My name is Kara; I am a half-elf; and I'm not stupid enough to tell you where I live, sir." Flare forced down an odd, fleeting thought that maybe – just maybe, he might hold a key to what she had been before the Circle. He was an enemy, someone she needed to stay away from. She needed to go. Immediately.

"What if I were to tell you—" Just as he had begun to talk, however, Flare had made her move. She used the element of surprise to her advantage, since her strength was nothing in comparison with his own. Bringing her knee up, she thrust it into his stomach, knocking the wind out of the unwary man. She followed up with a sharp backhand, sending him stumbling to the side mostly in shock.

He tried to catch her as she fled, calling out, "Raine!", but she was at that point more agile. She escaped him, darting straight for a ship. It didn't matter where it went, she just needed to _go_. Nevertheless, even as she ran in instinct and half-panic, her mind couldn't help but go back over his last words.

What had he been about to tell her…? Or could she even have trusted it anyway? The Circle member within her told her that no, it would have been baloney. However, the amnesiac was a little more curious. Now she wanted to know. What would his story have been?


	4. Grounded

Arm around his middle as he struggled to catch his breath, Regal hauled himself to his feet. He scanned the thin crowd for any sign of Raine, while worry etched itself across his features. She had vanished…

That settled it: Raine Sage in her right mind would not have attacked him. No matter what was going on, she would have given some sort of explanation. At the very least, she would not have looked at him like she had. While her eyes betrayed her identity, they also gave away the reality that she did not, in fact, know him. They were…too empty. They held no memories of the journey they had shared in. She was _not _in her right mind.

Though he suspected she didn't really believe herself to be "Kara," either. Otherwise, why would she have fled him like a common th—

Regal gave a start, absent-mindedly looking back toward the hotel. The flash – Raine used light-based magic. He'd seldom seen her do something quite that extensive, but then she'd never forgotten who she was before now. At least to his knowledge. So that begged the question, what had she been doing, and why?

He shook his head. First thing was first. He wanted to get in touch with Genis to see if the young man had any idea what was going on with his elder sister. If anyone would have any clues, it would be him. He and Raine were close, given all they'd been through together, and both were rather protective of the other.

The Duke sent the word out for the crews of any ship leaving Altamira to keep their eyes out for the woman in question and to restrain her if she was spotted. He told them she was a criminal – something she would resent, he was certain, as he gave the order to have her brought to and detained within the Lezareno. He wanted to keep tabs on her, as well as get the chance to speak with her again.

This done, he set about writing a letter to the half-elven sorcerer. It wasn't exactly elaborate, but it laid out the situation and inquired as to any knowledge he might have that Regal himself did not. In all truths he thought it doubtful, as Genis would most likely have come after her. It was still worth a shot, though. Any little bit helped.

Alright. Back to the hotel. He had a pretty good idea of the culprit, but he still needed to set things straight. When she was dragged back to him, he'd get the motive out of her.

"Lila," Regal hailed as he entered the hotel lobby. People were still lingering about in groups of three or four, all gossiping about the evening's excitement.

"Oh, Lord Bryant…" The woman turned to him. She motioned forward a man obviously from Meltokio's Nobles' Quarter. "This is Sir Jarrad Telro. You asked if anything was stolen – he's reported a pendant of his wife's having disappeared."

"A locket, actually." He struck Regal as a rather condescending and unlikable man right off, but it wasn't his place to judge.

"And you had it before the incident took place?" he asked.

"Yes."

What on earth would Raine – or the people she might be involved with – want with a noblewoman's locket…? "Very well. We're looking into this right now, sir. I assure you, we will get to the bottom of this and return your wife's trinket to you."

"I hope so. That 'trinket' is no common piece of jewelry." There was a hint of rudeness in his tone that the businessman in Regal skillfully overlooked. He was too curious about the necklace, anyway.

"Do you know why someone would want to steal it?"

"Obviously because of its value."

He and Lila shared a glance that clearly stated that they both thought this man equally obnoxious. "Alright. We'll keep you informed." He didn't think he'd tell him about soon having the suspect in hand.

"Duke Bryant?"

Regal turned at this call. A man in the garb of a Lezareno employee stood there with his hands behind his back. "Yes?"

"Your request has been carried out. She awaits you in your office."

Oh, what Telro had running through his mind at those words, the president mused as he saw the noble's expression. "_She _awaits you in your office." He could speculate and daydream about steamy office romances all he wanted, though, as far as Regal was concerned. The opinion of others didn't much matter. And actually, he didn't mind alienating Jarrad Telro. He had half a mind to ask his employee to retrieve Altamira's finest wine and deliver it. But no, he wouldn't scare his own people like that.

"Thank you," he replied instead, the laughter at his own antics just below the surface. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I have a meeting." This he added to the unfriendly man, and with a nod of parting to Lila he left the room again.

Okay, now he knew who it was, and what she'd done. What he still didn't know was _why _she'd done it. Was she really a part of a common band of thieves? And was one little locket _really _worth so much that she would infiltrate a wealthy hotel full of important guests, and only take that? It just didn't add up.

He could only imagine Raine's face when he walked into her temporary prison. He had a feeling he was the _last _person she wanted to see. But she'd just have to deal with it.

As he entered his office, he was forced to think very quickly when something was hurled at him. With catlike reflexes, Regal caught the heavy paperweight in one hand, just in front of his face. He blinked at the woman who stood at his desk across the room, poised in a battle-ready stance.

"I'm certainly glad you have no hard feelings against me," he mused lightly. Setting the object next to a vase of flowers on a stand by the door, he leaned against the wall behind him.

"Shut up. Why am I here? I could have you reported for harassment. You have no right to detain me." She was not a happy camper.

"Actually, I think I do. I think you were behind the incident at the hotel. I think you caused the panic. And I think you committed the theft."

Raine blinked at him, relaxing a little. "You're delusional," she replied coolly. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Really? You use light-based magic, do you not? Mainly a healer, your offensive spells use the element of light."

She watched him closely, studying his face. "Let's talk about something a little different."

"Alright. Like what?"

"Like the story you're going to tell me about my life. How you know all about me. How I'm not who I think I am. How you're actually my lover." She fixed him with a studious glower.

"Lover? Well, two out of three isn't bad. We are not now, nor have we ever been involved together. I do, however, know who you are, and I know it's very different from who you _think _you are."

"This is ludicrous. Release me at once – you have no evidence to support your theory, nor your claims. And I have no intention of listening to the garbage you have to say."

"…Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. But _I _have no intention of letting you go anywhere until you hear me out. You'll be kept here under guard overnight. Maybe in the morning you'll feel a little less talkative and little more amiable. Good night, Raine. Feel free to use the couch to sleep on. And," he added, turning to leave, "please don't harm my office. It's not easy to reorganize to my tastes when it's been tampered with." And with that, he left.

She would detest this, he knew. But if she wanted to be stand offish and unfriendly, he would play her game. Like a stubborn child, he would let her sit in confinement and mull over her options. And anyway, it gave him time to get a reply from Genis. It was unsettling to see her this way.


	5. Your World

This was terrible. It was disgraceful. It was a _disaster._

Flare paced the cozy room, feeling anything but comfortable. Her hands flexed in and out of fists at her sides, her eyes scanning her surroundings almost feverishly. They ran over the shelves, the desk, the walls, and the windows that proved quite escape-proof. They were all locked, and the glass was thick enough to make it unbreakable. Simply perfect.

It was over. Fang would never take her back – Claw would certainly ensure that. The code was absolutely clear, unfortunately for her. She had let herself get caught and detained; held prisoner. She would be cast out. Or worse.

Her restless footsteps slowed to a halt, and something flickered over her face. She wouldn't simply be banished from the Circle. No – she would undoubtedly be culled. Termed useless and hindering, and done away with. After all, to them there was no telling what would have happened while she was in captivity. A change of allegiance, perhaps, whether against her will or by it. She would no longer be worthy of their trust.

Angrily, Flare punched the wall she stood next to. Mostly, though, this just served to crack her knuckles and bruise her hand. She allowed her legs to buckle underneath her, falling into a defeated kneeling position. So, then – what did she do now?

She stared at the carpet, her fist still planted firmly against the wall. After several moments, she drew herself up slowly. There was only one thing to do, she decided. Only one dignified course of action to take. She had to end her own life before these people managed to trick any information about the Circle from her lips.

Flare was disgusted when she found herself trembling at this prospect. Any normal, self-respecting woman would fear suicide, sure. But she was a fearless Circle Assassin. Duty was the only thing that mattered, and this was her duty. To protect her companions and allies. To protect Fang, who had sheltered her since her arrival within the ranks. This would be far better than disgracing him by returning.

Therefore, she turned to behold the rest of the room. The beginnings of sunlight were pouring through the window right above the President's desk as dawn started to break. The grey light fell upon a few envelopes in a pile on the surface, beside which lay a sharp blade that served as a letter opener. That was her key.

Taking a deep breath, she strode with a purpose toward the desk. Her hand closed around the object. It wasn't the cleanest, or least painful way, but she didn't have the luxury of being choosey. She just had to get this over with.

Flare set aside her Circle-given staff almost lovingly, leaning it against the wall, and looked over the knife. Quick slit of the throat would be all it took. She would rather forego bleeding to death. And as she lifted it to rest the edge against her neck, she completely missed the fact that someone had taken the elevator up and just entered the office – until they announced themselves rather forcefully.

"Stop!"

She didn't even have time to turn around before she heard something clatter to the floor and had someone pounce on her from behind. The letter opener sprawled from her hand to slide a few centimeters away as she lost balance and fell, her shoulder slamming painfully into the desk-chair. Gripping it tightly against the shooting pain, her head snapped up to glare daggers at the man who had assaulted her.

Bryant stood there, shoulders rising and falling in heavy breaths, and face stony and disbelieving. "What do you think you're doing?" he exclaimed.

"I think I'm fulfilling my honor-bound duty." Flare made her voice a deadly growl as she pushed to her feet. Scarcely had she answered his query before he posed another.

"By committing suicide?" Behind him, the upset makings of what probably had been intended for her breakfast lay in a messy heap. This was forgotten, however, by the man whose intense gaze held her own. "Have you gone mad, Raine?" He spread his arms wide.

"I told you to stop calling me that. That is not my name!" She hated – loathed the way he said that name. As though he held long-standing memories of her. As though they'd known each other somewhere in the past. But _she _couldn't recall anything of the sort. "I know I am doing what I have to for all those I care about."

"All of them? Because I know one teenaged boy who would be _devastated _to hear of your death."

She paused, simply watching him. Teenaged boy…?

Bryant moved forth to gently take her shoulders in his hands. She flinched lightly, and a brief glance down showed a small trail of blood seeping through her shirt. She'd hit harder than she'd thought. "Just give me a chance, Raine. I can prove to you that I know what I'm talking about. I can prove I know who you are – and I can prove that you are not the woman you think you are now. Please. All I ask is that you hear me out."

For some reason, she was rendered speechless and motionless by his words, or maybe his eyes. She wasn't certain which. In him, though, she did sense a mystery relevant to her. One she wanted to unlock and understand for herself.

She blinked, startled when he closed his eyes, murmured something, and smiled slightly. A warm light had caressed her wounded shoulder, and a closer inspection showed her that the bleeding cut had healed. Stepping backward and out of his grasp, she flexed it a little. ….Maybe she could give him a chance. Just one. It had to be better than killing herself – she would simply guard herself constantly against mentioning the Circle.

"…Then show me your world."


	6. Won't Be Bored

"We first met in Meltokio—"

"I have never been to Meltokio."

"Not as you are now, perhaps. …Raine. Please. Just listen."

Regal did his best to keep the amused exasperation from entering his voice and face alike. Oh, yes, this was a terrible thing, and he would do all in his power to return her to herself. Nevertheless, he could not deny that this woman was, at times, entertaining. She hadn't lost any of her attitude, that was certain, and this left the certain, odd charm about her intact.

The two were walking the beach, the duke along the tide and Raine on his other side. Evidently, she retained her dislike of water, as well.

"I'm not sure you can really call it a 'meeting,' at that point, considering we were only in indirect contact, and for a few mere seconds. It was in the sewers, actually, when I was still trying to get at Colette."

She cocked an eyebrow in his direction as though to ask, "Colette?"

"Sylvarant's Chosen of Mana," he supplied. "Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Presea Combatir, Genis Sage, Zelos Wilder, Sheena Fujibayashi, and Raine Sage." The last name he spoke with an emphatic nod at her, provoking only a roll of her eyes. She still didn't believe him. "Putting aside myself, of course. We all made up the group that reunited the world… What?" For she had, by this time, started shaking her head slowly, her eyes narrowed but directed straight ahead.

Raine flicked her gaze briefly toward him. "This doesn't make sense," she stated after a moment, in that clear, scholarly tone he recognized easily. Again, the tiniest smile played on his lips.

"You know, aside from your altered memories, it really is uncanny how very little you have changed." He linked his hands behind his back as they continued to walk. "What doesn't make sense?"

She waved a hand vaguely, seeming to brush off his first remark easily. At last, they slowed to a halt. "Everything you say. This entire situation. Face it, Bryant – you've no proof to back up your claims. It's your word against my memories. Which, by the way, were not altered." The half-elf shot him a look that caught him off-guard. It wasn't a glare, exactly. Rather, she seemed to be reproachful toward her own words. "…They just don't exist." Looking away, Raine started to walk again.

Regal hastened to fall into step at her side once more, easily matching her stride despite her irritated, quickened pace. "You mean…you don't remember a single thing of your past?"

"No," she replied at once. "I don't mean that. I have memories of my childhood. …Young childhood, in any case. Heimdall. My mother and father. Being _chased_ by the Tethe'allan armies." Her face darkened further.

"How old were you in your last memory?" He eyed her curiously.

"…I don't know. Nine. Perhaps ten."

The duke nodded slowly, cupping his chin thoughtfully between thumb and forefinger. "That explains why you don't recall Genis. You were a year or two older than that when he was born, if I have your ages correct."

She wrinkled her nose, pinning her hair out of her face with one hand as a breath of wind came off the sea to ruffle through it. "This…Genis. The 'teenaged boy' you mentioned yesterday?"

"Indeed."

"Who is he? You gave him the same surname as the one you _claim _belongs to me."

"That is because I _claim _that he is your younger brother. A half-elf and a mage like yourself – who also shares your vivid personality and scathing attitude." He gave her a sidelong look. "Need I remind you, Miss Sage, that you not only agreed to this, but actually _requested _that I introduce you to your own past?"

"Your world, Bryant. I said 'your world,' and I meant it. I give your story no credit whatsoever, and don't get the idea that I want to be your friend. You _might _have _some _sort of key to my past, but that doesn't mean I believe you. Meeting in the Meltokio sewers? Joining with you to reunite the forsaken worlds of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla? Awfully farfetches, wouldn't you say?"

He shrugged gently. "Perhaps. But you still agreed to hear me out, and I would appreciate it if you did so. You stop taking every chance you get to poke holes in my recounting of history, and I shall attempt to treat you more as a distant acquaintance than the friend I made a year past. Fair enough?"

Raine peered at him long and hard, before her expression relaxed into that old, familiar look of superiority that had a way of making one believe she had just that. She closed her eyes, lifting her chin a little. "Fine," she replied, airily. He found himself almost chuckling again, and very quickly cleared his throat softly to cover it.

"You know what might bring back a few memories?" he finally asked, after several minutes of silence had passed between them. She glanced at him, and he took the gesture as an invitation to continue. "A trip to Iselia. You did spend over a decade there, raising Genis. It's where you met Lloyd and Colette. You taught for several years at the school there, I believe."

"…I…taught at a school?" Her head tilted slowly before she shook it. "Whatever you say, Your Esteemed Lordship. I am, after all, at your mercy." The sarcasm was clear in her tone.

Eyes half-closing in amusement, he made a simple, good-natured reply: "That you are, my dear." Tactfully, he ignored the second roll of her eyes. This was certainly not going to be boring. She was going to be quite the puzzle to solve.

When they came to the tram, he offered his hand like a gentleman to help her in. Raine, however, ignored it and stepped easily into the vehicle on her own. He shook his head and followed her, requesting of the conductor that they be taxied to the Lezareno main building. His office was, after all, her holding place. He didn't think about it much, until she brought it up on the ride.

"You know…" Raine sat as far as she possibly could from him, turned sideways to gaze out over the town and the ocean as they passed. He looked to her when she spoke, listening attentively. "You say I am an old friend, and yet you keep me locked away in your office like a criminal."

"You did commit a crime, Raine. You broke into a hotel room and stole a noblewoman's locket," he reminded her, leaning back and regarding her thoughtfully. Her only reply was a noncommittal grunt. After a minute or so, he leaned forward again. "…You're right, though. I'm not certain my office is the best place for you. I do want you where I can keep an eye on you, though. I wouldn't want you running off again before you had a chance to hear the whole truth."

Her expression – what he could see of it – hardened. "I've nothing to 'run off' to anymore," she stated, flatly. "If I were to return now, I would be run through without a moment's hesitation. You needn't worry about _that_." She turned a little further away from him.

Regal took a deep breath and let it out on a slow, quiet sigh as he pondered. "…If you promise to behave yourself," he began, carefully, "I will take you to my own home and have you board there."

She turned her face toward him, one eyebrow lifted. "Well, well. Getting a touch bold, aren't we?"

It took him a minute to realize what that statement had meant. He ran a hand over his face as the conductor tried to mask his laughter. "Raine, please." The nobleman shook his head, a bit embarrassed. That had _not _been his implication. "You know very well that that is not what I meant."

"Mmmhm." She shook her hair from her face again with a lofty air about her, only flustering him more. "Very well, Bryant. If it gets me out of that office of yours, so be it. Just don't get any ideas, got it?"

"I don't think that will be a problem." His own dryness asserted itself in his embarrassment, and this remark earned him a reproachful scowl from her as he changed his requested destination.

…No. This was going to be anything _but _boring.


	7. Home, Sweet Almost Home

"Here." Regal nodded to the structure they were approaching. It was a modest, comfortable home. There was nothing particularly fancy about it, inside or out. It was two stories, made of handsome stone for the most part, and had several windows from which one could admire many different views, from the beaches, to the mountains in the distance. The house was placed out of the way, more toward the city limits and out from under the feet of tourists. It was quieter out here, and he preferred it.

Raine – "Kara" – was examining it in silence. She had walked the entire distance from the tram to this quaint little building behind and slightly beside him, quiet for most of the way. He kept sending glances backward, just to be certain she was, indeed, still with him. The last thing he needed was for her to run off and slip through his fingers again. He might never find her if that happened. When she had begun to notice this, however, it was clear that she caught onto his intent: she rolled her eyes every time. When that happened, he just turned his gaze frontward again and smiled slightly in amusement.

"It isn't much, but I hope you will be comfortable here. I find it quite peaceful," he continued, undaunted by her lack of reply. He unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside to allow her passage through first. She flicked her eyes toward him once in a sidelong glance, but then proceeded into the cozy room.

Regal followed behind her, closing the door gently. "I'll show you to the guest bedroom, if you'd like."

"You're in charge here." Finally, she spoke, he mused. "Do as you will. I am only a prisoner." Her voice was still dry and a little bitter, but he chose to, once more, tactfully ignore it.

"Not so," he contradicted in good humor. "You are an honored guest here. I've simply insisted that you stay." Another smile tugged at his lips as he resisted the urge to chuckle at her expression. "If you would follow me, please?" He half-bowed and slipped past her. Leading the way, he stepped from the small entryway, noting the fact that the vases on the two corner tables needed new flowers, as the old ones were wilting, and into a warm, tastefully decorated living room housing a few book cases, a fireplace and a comfortable chair in which to enjoy it, a couple of sofas, and a side table that propped up one of several lamps situated around the room.

There was a dining area on the other side, and an open doorway leading from that into one of his favorite hideouts: the kitchen. A sliding glass door on a wall behind a sofa led out to a patio of sorts, on which were arranged a table and three chairs. He led her past all of this, however, and toward the mahogany staircase leading upward.

"Feel free," he told her over his shoulder as they ascended, "to make use of any part of the house as you wish. You are _not _a prisoner here, Raine. Ah, my apologies…" Regal paused at the top of the steps, letting her finish climbing as well before asking, "What would you like me to call you at this point?"

He could tell from her face that it caught her off-guard. It seemed only fitting, though, to put her as much at ease as he could, and he knew that his calling her by the name only he knew was very uncomfortable to her. She blinked and seemed to consider for a moment. Then, at last, she came up with an answer. "Flare."

He raised an eyebrow in question. "Flare?" he echoed, puzzled.

"Yes. Flare." Evidently, she wasn't about to elaborate on the origins of that title. So, for now, he decided to choose his battles, and this wasn't one he thought important to fight.

"Very well, then. Flare." He nodded respectfully to her and resumed walking. "Downstairs, you will find the dining room and kitchen – of course, I will be providing meals for you." …Actually, the thought of actually being able to cook for someone again was rather welcomed. It would be nice to share someone's company once more. Too often of late did he eat alone. "There are also several shelves of books, which no doubt you will enjoy reading." He cast a glance her way. Surely, she still held a passion for books.

"The patio is also yours to use at your leisure. Naturally, I must ask that you not leave it, as a…precautionary measure." Not that it would be altogether easy to escape from. It stretched out rather high over a strip of the beach that no one but he ever traveled. "You understand."

"Entirely, warden."

He bit back a sigh. "Should you ever need me, I spend quite a bit of time downstairs in the living room. However, I'll be working from home as much as I can while you are here, and as such, you will probably find me in there." The noble nodded to a door they were passing. "That is my den. And, in an emergency, my bedroom is at the other end of the hall." He jerked his head backwards.

"I never knew you were so daring, Bryant," Flare all but purred, though the sarcasm was heavy in her voice, as well.

…He had done it again. Curse his verbal slip-ups. This time, Regal did sigh. "Nor did I realize before now just where _your _mind was situated," he replied in turn., shaking his head. "This is the bathroom." He gestured to another door as they walked, trying to change the subject to something less…awkward. And, at long last, he stopped and opened a door for her, motioning her inside with a sweep of his arm. "And this is your room."

Flare stepped in, giving the room a quick sweep with her gaze. He turned on the overhead light and stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded. It was a nice room, painted a cozy beige. The furniture was all made of the same dark wood. There was a desk, a wide window, and a stand beside the inviting bed with a reading lamp settled upon it. The bedclothes were a similar color to the walls, and the dark trim and window blinds gave it a homey feel, he thought. It seemed to suit her, somehow.

"Well. It is a step up from that stifling office of yours," she relented after a moment. Regal chose to be optimistic and detect a hint of approval in her tone. Presently, though, Flare turned to fix her gaze squarely upon him. "And I have free rein…over this entire house?"

He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly. "I fail to see any reason to tell you otherwise," he replied. Perhaps some would call him foolish for this, but he could not bring himself to distrust this woman, even as…confused as she might be. Besides, he knew Raine well enough to know that, even if he set restrictions, he would have to physically seal her away in a room to get her to stay there. She would not stay confined of her own, free will. "Like I said, as long as you behave yourself, you will be treated as no less than a guest. I will do everything in my power to make you comfortable; if there is anything you need, please, do not hesitate to let me know." It had been so long since he had been a host, he mused. And it would take some getting used to, not being the only resident any longer. He had had no help in the house since Alicia, and scarcely did he have anyone worth entertaining. In fact, he hadn't done it since before his time in prison… Again, the man shook his head to banish these thoughts.

Flare gave a soft, noncommittal, "Hmm…", and returned to pacing about her new temporary residence.

Regal straightened, something dawning on him. "…Did you bring anything here, to Altamira?"

She paused, glancing at him. "No," she replied simply. "Nothing, save for my staff."

He blinked. "No clothing, then?" When she shook her head, he thought for a moment. "Alright, then. You may be here for a while. What you are wearing is not in terribly good condition, and you can't wear the same thing for such an indefinite period of time. I will take care of that, as well." Granted, picking out a woman's wardrobe wasn't exactly his specialty, but he figured he could pull it off well enough for now.

She eyed him, almost suspiciously. "…Then I suppose I will bathe," she replied slowly, as though in distrust.

The duke nodded. "I will have clothing prepared for you when you are finished." With that, he turned to go. Something stalled him, though.

"Bryant…"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes, Flare?"

She never blinked those narrowed eyes. "Why are you going to all of this trouble? Why do you set me loose in your home?"

To this, he gave a small, yet meaningful smile. "Because I trust you." Without another word, he left to go try his hand at clothes-shopping.


	8. Denial

Well… He had tried his best. He hadn't an inkling of an idea as to Raine's style preferences, nor was he certain about her size, but he had asked the shop owner – a young lady – for her assistance in picking out a suitable wardrobe and took an educated guess as to what might fit her. …Yes, it had been, and continued to be, awkward, buying clothes for a woman. For one thing, he had received many curious and perhaps smug looks. Did everything _have _to be so scandalous? Did everyone have to make this out to be a sparking _romance_, for heaven's sake?

Regal shook his head as he ascended the stairs to the upper level of his home. He could hear his guest in the bathroom as he approached the closed door, and he relzaxed a little: she had not fled. That was good sign. When he gave a gentle knock, he slipped up in his hail: "Raine?" There was a pause, and he flinched. "My apologies… Flare."

"…What?"

He looked down at the box he held. It was wrapped in plain, brown paper, so as not to invite even more ridiculous gossip on the streets. "I have some clothing here. You will have to forgive me for any mistakes in taste or size. This is not exactly something I do every day. I fear that, like most men, I fall short in my perception of women and what they wear."

"No doubt." Her response almost made him chuckle to himself., though the urge faded as he recalled the whole reason for her being there. She was amusing – but even so, this situation was rather grave. He chided himself for forgetting that she needed his help.

A moment later, the door opened a crack, and her delicate hand appeared. "We will see."

The Duke handed her the box by its strings, politely averting his gaze, though it really was quite impossible to see anything but a slightly damp hand, even by accident. He still couldn't help but be the proper gentleman. And when she took the box and its contents inside the room with her, and the door was shut again, he stepped backward. "If you are hungry, I can start fixing dinner," he offered.

"Do as you will," came the reply from within.

Again, Regal shook his head. He supposed that it was a good thing she hadn't lost her personality… Turning away, he descended the stairway once more and turned into the kitchen. As he went, an idea hit him. It was farfetched, but…it was still possible. He blinked at his array of neatly organized knives, considering.

There were certain senses that were said to stimulate memory. Smell and taste were two of them. Could he jog something in her suppressed recollections with a meal, perchance? He cocked an eyebrow, leaning sideways against the counter in thought. Beyond this question came another, as well…

_What_ would he make? Was there anything particularly special that had been made during their journey? He put one finger against his mouth, staring into space as he thought. At long last, the Temple of Earth came to mind. While on their way to confront Gnome, they had been stopped by – what were they called? Gnomelettes? – and forced to prepare curry before the creature would let them through. …It wasn't exactly a foolproof plan, but it was still worth a shot, right?

Therefore, as his guest freshened up and dressed upstairs, he decided upon the spicy dish. He did hope it would cause something to click, but he also found himself hoping she liked it. That was the high point of cooking for someone, after all. And, he mused, what kind of impression would it make if she didn't like the first meal he prepared for her?

Regal was setting the table as she came down, arranging everything just so. It really had been far too long since he had had company – and maybe it was showing a little too much. What could he say? He was a perfectionist, and he had his system. In fact, so lost was he in these aesthetics that he did not even notice her entrance until she spoke.

"…Are you often this focused on the fine art of positioning…forks?"

He startled, looking over his shoulder at her. She was rubbing the ends of her damp hair in the folds of a small towel and eyeing him. The Duke straightened slowly, staring at her for a moment despite himself. She was, indeed, wearing something he had brought to her. And he had to admit, it suited her well.

She wore no shoes, only white socks, so the cuffs of her pants brushed lightly against the carpet. The pants themselves were trim and black. The top she had chosen was a fitted white undershirt, over which she had slipped on a three-quarter sleeved shirt dyed a lilac purple, with a collar line so wide it sat just on her shoulders. Admittedly, he had not picked it out. It was something the storeowner he'd asked for assistance had put together.

Flare paused in her movement. "What are you staring at?" she demanded, almost defensively.

Regal snapped out of his critical examination with a blink. "Ah… I was admiring your apparel." He gave her a respectful nod and a tame, polite smile. "I'm glad something fit, at least."

She lifted an eyebrow. "…Indeed. Apparently, you have a better 'perception of women' than you thought." The half-elf glanced down at herself.

He chuckled quietly. "I cannot take much credit. I did have a young woman helping me make sense of it all. I hope you're hungry." He set down the last utensil in his hand and pulled a chair away from the table for her with a courteous, "Ladies First," bow.

She approached slowly, as though suspicious. Even as she eased into the offered chair, her searching eyes never left him. She almost looked as though she expected some ulterior motive behind the seemingly simple dinner. …Ever cautious, eh, Raine? Rather than addressing her distrust, though, he merely disappeared into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with two plates holding steaming portions of white rice and curry. One was placed before Flare; the other he took with him to a place across the table from her, where he sat.

Flare looked up at him, brow lifted toward her hairline. He gestured with his head toward the food, anticipating her reaction on two levels: her memory, and her tastes. "Enjoy," he prodded in a go-ahead that she evidently required.

She carefully lifted a fork, poking the meal a time or two before actually daring to lift a bite toward her nose. She sniffed it as he watched, bemused. "I didn't poison it, you know," he told her after she had hesitated for a few moments. She flicked her gaze toward him briefly, and then lowered it back to the questionable bite. As she started to actually put it in her mouth, though, he couldn't help himself. "…Not all of it, anyway. I would not want to kill myself, after all."

The woman paused in motion, staring at him. She straightened after a minute, her expression smoothing out into a cool loftiness. It was almost cheeky. …Almost. "Your sense of humor does leave much to be desired, doesn't it?"

"Forgive me. I'm a little out of practice," he mused in good nature.

"I suppose I needn't worry too much about being poisoned at this point. It wouldn't make sense for you to make me over with a proper lady's wardrobe, only to kill me within the hour. Not unless you are as twisted as some claim you to be."

It was his turn to lift one brow. "Twisted?"

"Your odd reputation precedes you, My Lord. You are known to be a strange man, indeed. I can't say I don't agree."

Regal chuckled. He found it surprising and refreshing at the same time how at ease he was around her. Perhaps he should have been more on his guard – she was technically a criminal – but she simply did not come across as a threat. Or maybe he was just biased, given the fact that he had known her before her memory loss. Intimidating, she often had been. But she had never gone out of her way to be violent. Stubborn as a mule, quite frightening at times, but never had she attacked unprovoked. She preferred the path of thought, rather than that of bloodshed. At least, she had, and he found it difficult to think anything else of her now. Naïve? He didn't think so, but it was debatable. "To each his own," he replied easily. "Give it a try; I would like to know what you think."

"As you wish, your Lordship." Her tone was dry. Flare gave the bite on her fork one last sniff, and then finally took it. She paused for a second, and at this, Regal sat perfectly still, watching her. He all but held his breath, letting it out only when she had swallowed and taken a sip of water. "Intriguing…"

He blinked. Was that…a good thing, or bad? "Do you like it?" he asked cautiously for clarification. _Does it taste familiar…?_

"I think I've tasted this before. What did you say it was? …What?" She eyed him as his expression softened into a mild, almost triumphant smile. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"It's curry," he replied to her first question. In response to her second, he gave a gentle shrug. "You _have _tasted it before, at least once. In the Temple of Earth, when your brother, Sheena, and myself prepared it. There was a creature there known as a Gnomelette who demanded we demonstrate the concept of spiciness to him before he would let us pass through to the Summon Spirit. We needed the pact; therefore, we had no choice but to accommodate him. Ergo…" He used one hand to indicate his plate. "Curry."

As soon as he had started in on this miniature speech, Flare had set down her fork and looked away. "…Just because I recall the taste of this dish… That could indicate almost anything. It only means that I have, indeed, eaten it at some point during my life."

"Or," he reasoned, "it means that everything I've told you is the truth, and you are Raine Sage, as I have claimed from the beginning."

She looked back at him, pushing her chair out behind her as she rose to her feet, laying her fingertips on the table. "It will take more than the taste of a common Tethe'allan dish to convince me of your ridiculous claims, Bryant."

Regal followed suit, standing as well. He leaned forward with his palms flat on the tabletop. "Flare. What possible reason could I have to lie to you about this? To lie this extensively? I understand that it is new to you, and you are confused. But you are exceedingly bright. Just think about it. What could my motive _possibly _be, if not the one I have already expressed?"

Her jaw set, she continued to eye him for a moment. At length, she gave only a vague reply: "I have yet to figure that out." And with that, she turned and disappeared back up the stairs.

Regal watched her go and listened until he heard her door close – a bit forcefully – above. With a sigh, he sank back into his chair and kneaded his forehead. Well. It had not gone quite as well as he'd hoped, but something had potentially been sparked, and he knew he had given her a relevant point to think about.

He ate alone that night after all, as she did not come back down. He had seen the unease, and perhaps even fear, in her eyes. There was something more than stubbornness at work, here. There was something bigger keeping her from accepting his words as truth. But he would keep trying, nonetheless. She had agreed to let him walk her through it, and he fully intended to. That had to count for something.


	9. Revelations

She was…so confused. Sitting at the window, elbow on the sill and chin propped up by her hand, Flare cast her sight out over the would-be marvelous view of Altamira's grand beaches. She wasn't really looking at the sand, though. The carefree tourists scampering by in immodest swimwear and the giddy children building structures vaguely resembling castles were of no concern nor interest to her. No, the narrowed violet eyes didn't see much of anything before them. They wandered back, as so often they did nowadays, to the Circle. More specifically, to Fang.

As far back as she could remember, however little that was, he had always been there for her. He hadn't been just her superior. He wasn't just her leader. He had been an older brother to her, from the moment she'd joined the Circle. Granted, she couldn't remember that day in the slightest. The way she had been told, something had happened during one of her missions, and she had lost her memory as a result. She had evidently been a member of the group for some time, and she and Fang had always had a strong bond. In fact, it had been he who saved her life the day she had lost her memory. She recalled waking up at the base, and him standing over her like a protective brother, and he had told her the story after learning that she remembered none of it. And even since then, just as before, apparently, she had followed him without a second thought. She had believed every word he had said to her, because she had had no reason not to.

And yet…here was this queer nobleman with an eccentric reputation telling her that she had had quite the life before her memory loss – and that he knew her better than she did, at this point. That she had never had anything at all to do with the Circle. He claimed to be a good friend of hers. He had all of these details regarding her life that seemed so preposterous for someone to fabricate, but also opposed rather vividly everything she had believed before. One of them was lying – but which one? And why?

Bryant had been correct in that there seemed to be no clear reason, or ulterior motive, behind his claims. Unless, of course, he was trying to get to the Circle through her. But the same was true about Fang: if she had been a hero of regeneration, it stood to reason that he might have an interest in her as a valuable aid. After all, the earliest she remembered after being eleven or twelve years old was waking up to the Circle. Who was to say that it hadn't been _they _who had erased her memories in the first place?

On the other hand, Regal Bryant was an influential part of the Tethe'allan hierarchy. He was one of the four grand Dukes, the owner of the entire Altamira Resort, _and _the President of the esteemed Lezareno Company. Perhaps the King had enlisted his help in smoking out the troublesome Circle. …But how would he have known she would be there on that day? If they had an informant already, he wouldn't need to cozy up to her. She simply would have been arrested. Furthermore, Bryant hadn't made a single mention or inquiry pertaining to her colleagues in the Circle. It had all been about her. Her life, her feelings, her interests. Either this nobleman was a skillful and impressive actor, or…he was telling the truth… And Fang was the liar…

Or, Bryant was a lunatic, as many people thought already.

Shaking her head, Flare rose from her seat at the window and looked about the room, thoughtfully. Before she had left to come to Altamira, it had been made very clear to her that she was to avoid being seen by Regal Bryant at all cost. Why? Why only him? Shouldn't she avoid being seen _period _at all cost? Yet, they had been very specific, drilling it into her head that she had to stay away from the duke. She had brushed it off at the time as being another safety measure both for her own protection and that of the organization, but now, it didn't make sense…

She gave another violent shake of her head. She was thinking too much, and all of this going back and forth was unnerving her. She wasn't ready to proclaim Fang a liar and an enemy; she cared too much for him. But neither did she wish to pass up the opportunity she had to learn about herself from Duke Bryant. No. She was going to proceed just as she had planned from the start: she would stay here and play out this life until she had a conclusion either way. Until then, she would say nothing of Fang and the Circle. After all, she mused bitterly, she couldn't go back. She would disgrace him, and it wasn't likely that they would just welcome her back with open arms after this folly.

Flare allowed a sigh to pass her lips. Just as she was wondering what to do with the rest of her day, there came a knock at her door. She cocked an eyebrow, turning that way. "Come in," she responded coolly.

And so he did. Bryant opened the door carefully and stepped just into the room. "Good morning," he greeted politely. She studied his face, trying very hard to keep the agonizing argument from entering her thoughts once more. Instead of a verbal reply, she merely nodded acknowledgement. "There is something I need to take care of that requires my actually going to the Company briefly. You're welcome to come along, if you wish. Or, you can stay here. It's entirely up to you; I just thought you might like the chance to get out and stretch your legs, so to speak."

There was a pause. It had been two days since the "Curry Incident" at dinner. She had kept to herself, only occasionally appearing outside of her room. He had worked from home, just as he said he would, but she had thus far stayed away from him. Ever since that first night, she had been thinking the same thoughts as had plagued her this morning – if a bit less systematically. This had been the first time she had sat down and thought it through with that much organization, gathering all of the points and ideas that had accumulated. Now that she had, and now that she had come to some sort of compromise with herself once more, she was stayed from the immediate, "No," she might have uttered before. …It might be nice to get out.

"…Very well," she finally consented, speaking slowly. "Seeing something other than these four walls would be refreshing, I suppose. Besides, I was getting nostalgic and homesick for my first prison." Flare couldn't help but add this dry remark.

In response, the slightest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well," he replied in good humor, "I will be more than happy to take you for a visit, provided you leave things where they are and refrain from throwing heavy objects at anyone."

"We'll see," was her lofty answer as she passed him. She could have sworn that she heard him chuckle from behind her as he followed, but she chose to ignore it.

They left the house and started the trek down the neat cobblestone in silence. That is, until he spoke. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see you again." At her puzzled look, he continued, linking his hands behind his back as they went. "After dinner, you disappeared, and I've hardly seen you since. You haven't said a word until now. …I am sorry if I offended you, R—Flare."

She cast a fleeting glance at him as he nearly slipped up again, but soon turned her gaze forward with that same impenetrable, unreadable expression. "You said nothing offensive, Bryant. Just get it through your head that I don't trust you, I never trusted you, and I'm not _going _to trust you simply because you prove to me that you are an exceptional cook."

It took her a moment to realize that he was no longer walking, and she sent a glance over her shoulder as she slowed to a halt. Lifting one brow, she turned to face him. He was regarding her in bemusement. "What now?" she asked flatly.

"Was that…a _compliment_?" he asked. She could hear the barely masked smugness in his voice – and wasn't sure she like it.

"Cruxis, you're right. How careless of me." She touched a hand to her heart mockingly, feigning shame and regret. She started walking again, and she heard him fall into step with her. Flare didn't glance back at him, but she had a feeling there was that same shadow of a smile on his face. This was all so amusing to _him_.

When they arrived in the lobby of the company building, he climbed out and offered his hand to help her. She simply gave him a silent look of, "You have _got _to be kidding," and brushed it away to disembark herself. Brushing herself off, she glanced around.

"You're free to explore, if you so desire. I'll find you when I'm finished."

Flare considered for a few seconds before nodding agreement. And with her relative freedom won, she watched him enter the left elevator and disappear. Likewise, she drifted into the other and peered at the buttons. Second floor, President's Office – no, thank you – and… She tilted her head. Sky Terrace? That sounded interesting enough. Much more so than "Second Floor", at any rate. So, she poked it and looked upward as the elevator whisked her away to whatever this Sky Terrace held.

When the door slid out of the way, she stepped gingerly into the rooftop Eden, admittedly surprised. There were flowers, a tiny waterfall and streams everywhere, with arches, and bridges… What kind of a company _was _this, anyway? Flare made her slow, careful way further in. This must have been Bryant's getaway. It had his fingerprints all over it.

A stone monument in front of the raised waterfall caught her eye after a moment. Intrigued again, she stepped across one of the small bridges and ventured closer. What she found surprised her even more: it was a gravestone. "So much for pleasant tranquility," she remarked to herself. She bent over to peer at the inscription.

_Alicia Combatir._

…Alicia who? The dates written below the name suggested that this Alicia had died over eighteen years before…and at quite a young age. Something stalled her as she read the grave, and inspected a little hole that looked to have once held a small, spherical object. Why…did she have this hazy image in her mind of a young, pink-haired, pigtailed girl…? And…a feeling of shock. Of finding something out that she had never expected. She shuddered involuntarily as she touched the engraved name. Something important had once happened here. And it was relevant to her.

That was the only place she went that day. In fact, she was still sitting there, studying the grave, when Bryant came looking for her. She heard the elevator, the quiet footsteps, and knew it was he. She didn't even glance up.

"Do you like it up here?" He spoke so softly in this garden, as though something louder would bring it all tumbling down. She didn't blame him; the place did give off those vibes.

"…It's quiet."

He smiled faintly, crouching next to her and draping his arms over his thighs. Bryant followed her gaze to the stone, and when she finally looked at him, she saw pain in his eyes. Slowly, she looked back at the grave. It was a long time before either of them spoke. She couldn't decide whether or not she should tell him about her…experience.

"Who was she?"

The duke seemed to be caught off-guard by this question. He turned his head to blink at her. Again, there was a pause. "Alicia…was a maid," he finally replied, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. "My maid. A long time ago."

Flare shifted to face him. "What happened to her?" she asked. Why did she care? …Well… It could be important for her memories, she reasoned. It wasn't because of any kind of concern for this oaf – that was certain. She wasn't interested in his tragic past. Of course not. …Not at all.

Bryant seemed to flinch. "She was m—" He broke off, licking his dry lips. "…She was killed in a terrible incident, eighteen years ago. Alicia and I…were in love."

She blinked. Those words… That sentence… Had she heard it somewhere before?

"But she was used…for a cruel experiment involving crystals known…as Exspheres. Do you remem—know anything about them?"

She nodded silently. Oh, yes. She knew exactly what they were.

He nodded stiffly in return. "She… She was…" He swallowed thickly, setting his jaw. "She was turned into a kind of monster called an Exodia, because the experiment failed. She asked me…before she completely lost herself…to kill her…before she could harm anyone else. And…"

"And you did," Flare finished for him.

He closed his eyes, nodding again. "Yes."

There was a long stretch of silence between them again. At length, she offered a quiet, "I'm sorry… I know…you went to prison for sixteen years as a murderer. Was this why, perchance?"

"Indeed. I sent myself to prison for taking her life."

"…Well, that's idiotic."

Again, Bryant was caught off-guard by her bluntness. He blinked at her. "Pardon?"

Flare pursed her lips. "She ceased to be human the moment she attacked. It was no different from the monsters you cut down during the Reunification. You had already lost her before you ever laid a hand on her, and it wasn't your fault—"

He held up a hand to stop her berating, chuckling quietly. "I know, Raine. Trust me. I know." Neither of them seemed to have noticed the name he'd used as they both looked back at the grave.

She cleared her throat quietly, straightening her shirt and giving a crisp nod. "Good." _She _wasn't even sure where that speech had come from.

"…I've accepted my innocence in the matter – something I was incapable of doing for nearly two decades. But that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."

"Of course not." She looked down. "You lose something precious, and it's gone forever. No amount of wishing or pretending is going to change that. Of course it hurts. …But life goes on, and so must we." She could feel a blush rising, and she fought it viciously. Flare pushed to her feet, retreating back into the impassive expression as a defense mechanism.

Slowly, he rose as well, smoothing his own shirt. "Yes," he granted, "life goes on. …But I'm not giving up on you that easily." And the smile was back, as well as that wry spark in his eye. It put her more at ease than his wounded and saddened air.

Giving him a roll of her own eyes and very pointedly hiding from him any hint of her inner thoughts, she started walking again.

Together, they returned in silence to the house, though each was following their own very different train of thought.


	10. Cats, Hm?

Every day grew easier; every hour spent around one another put them both more at ease. They fell into a comfortable sort of daily routine. Part of her was still very guarded against betraying Fang and the others, but the other part of her, perhaps even without her consent, had grown accustomed to this new, if temporary, lifestyle. Before either of them knew it, a full week had passed since her arrival.

His stories continued to be protested, analyzed, and doubted, but he seemed not to mind. In fact, it was almost like a game now; a battle of wits. For every challenge she would make, he would return one. The reverse was also true. Their intellects were closely matched, which made these exchanges enjoyable on both ends, even if one of them refused to admit it. Pride was something she had never lacked. And yet, she wasn't exactly conceited, either. She was an interesting puzzle for him to work at.

As was he to her. They both had their own, private musings over one another. Sometimes, she would watch him over the top of her book as he sat at the table in the other room, engrossed in company business. The vigor with which he threw himself into keeping Altamira and the Lezareno afloat and thriving was astounding to the point of being almost ludicrous. And yet…she respected it, too. It was admirable to pour oneself entirely into a cause about which one was passionate. She had done it, too. He was a strong, devoted man. …Even if he did have a work ethic that bordered on the obsessive.

Regal had his own moments of observation, as well. Now and then, he would glance up to find her half-curled in the corner of the couch, book forgotten and closed over one finger as she stared out the nearest window. It was obvious that her mind was a million miles away, but though his curiosity was positively gnawing at him as to just where it was, he never asked. He had a feeling that her silence about her pre-Altamira adventures was deliberate; she did not want him to know. He did want to get the answers surrounding that little locket, of course, but he would give her a chance to settle in and trust him. Perhaps her memory would return, and she would willingly tell him then. Until such a time, he was content to share his home and hearth with her. Though he had far from lost sight of his goal of restoring her memory, he was used to her presence by now, and it could even be said without exaggeration that he enjoyed it. After years of solitude, it was nice to have company again.

Evening had brought with it the same, lazy peace it always did. Regal had lit a fire in the hearth, and it filled the otherwise silent room with a soft crackling. He sat on the couch, settled in comfortably with a bit of paperwork in his lap and a mug of hot tea on the end table beside him.

Raine was essentially at his feet, sitting on the floor several good inches from his leg and leaning back against the couch. He had reminded her in good humor when she had taken up the odd spot that she was perfectly welcome to sit _on _the sofa, but she had, rather bluntly, refused. Not that it had been much of a shock, really. And so, there they had sat in easy silence for nearly two hours, she with her book, he with his work, and both with steaming cups of herbal tea. She continued to seem satisfied with- and appreciative of his culinary prowess.

At last, she paused. Glancing up at him, she rested her head down on the seat of the sofa behind her and half-closed her book. Feeling her gaze before he saw it, Regal blinked and turned his attention to her. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"…You never give it a rest, do you? I'm beginning to think you have a physical addiction to paperwork," Flare informed him dryly.

Regal chuckled softly. "You are not the first one to tell me so, and I doubt that you'll be the last."

She sniffed. "You need a pet or something, Bryant. Something to occupy your mind. There is such a thing as working too much, you know." She ran a hand through her hair idly, starting to straighten and look back down at her book.

"I have you for that at the moment."

Flare paused. Slowly, she turned her head toward him and lifted one eyebrow. "…I beg your pardon? Did you just refer to me as a pet?" She eyed him up and down.

The president heaved a sigh, looking up at the ceiling with faint traces of amusement on his face. "You do enjoy twisting my words, don't you?" he chuckled.

"Well, you make it so easy. Evidently, you fail to learn your lesson. Choose your wording more carefully, and we won't have this problem. One day, you will say the wrong thing to the wrong, ambitious, young lady, and you will quickly find yourself walking down the aisle with your new bride."

"Ahh, so this is to be a lesson to me, is it, Professor Sage?"

Again, she paused. He received the reproachful, flat "look" he had learned to recognize as her way of saying, "Yeah, yeah, your ridiculous stories," and returned it with a very slight, _almost _impertinent smile that earned him the additional roll of her eyes. Flare turned away from him and reopened her book.

Regal leaned back with a relaxed sigh, setting down the papers and picking up his tea. "Perhaps you're right. It gets lonely here – without you, of course," he added, perhaps a touch mischievously. "I might look into a pet. What would you suggest, Miss Flare?"

"A cat," she replied off-handedly, turning the page. "As busy and independent as you are yourself, a dog would tax your patience and energy too much. You would quickly start searching for a new home for the poor beast. A cat, however, takes care of itself enough to let you go about your schedule and still come home to a companion that does not require hours of active attention, but can provide company even so. They are also neater and less obnoxious, and, in my opinion, more intelligent than most dogs."

His brow lifted a bit. "I take it you had a cat somewhere down the line."

She blinked, glancing up from the page. "…A long time ago. When I was a child." Her head tilted slightly. "Moko, I believe, was his name. ...I was very fond of him. Until he was lost in the ocean."

Regal gave a start, caught off-guard by her last words. "The ocean?" he repeated, looking down at her. He leaned forward slightly. "…Flare?" Her face was distant, and he was concerned.

"When we were trying to escape… My parents and I… We fled onto a ship. I was holding Moko. He was struggling… We fell overboard. Into the water. …I almost drowned. My father saved me, but the kitten was lost. I was devastated." She blinked, her brow knitting. Regal tentatively put a hand to her shoulder. After a few seconds of being still and quiet, she suddenly gave her head a sharp jerk and pulled away from his touch.

"Are you alright…?" he asked, uncertainly.

"It was over a decade ago; I'm fine. It isn't a particularly pleasant memory, but I think I'll live," she replied, her tone going dry once again. She stood and stretched a bit, utterly impassive once again. "…I'm going to bed." Flare marked her page and set the book neatly on the other end table. When she reached for her tea to clean it up, he stopped her.

"I'll get it. Goodnight, Flare. Sleep well," he bade her. She blinked at him for a second, but she soon nodded, offered a similar farewell, and disappeared up the stairs. Regal watched her go, thoughtfully.

_Cats. Hmh._


	11. Yup, It's a Washtub

Regal Bryant did not miss hints, even when those hints seemed, on the part of the source, to be quite unintentional. After his little chat with Raine, he accepted a mission, and the next morning found him leaving on the pretense of business to comb Altamira for a homeless, little kitty. Oh, he had a feeling he knew what her initial reaction would be. If he knew her as well as he liked to think, she would refuse to acknowledge any attachment to the animal, even berate him for taking this initiative. But _she _had been the one who suggested he get one, hadn't she?

He returned later that afternoon with a small box in his hands. It had holes poked all over it, and naturally, it confused his guest. She eyed it, then him. "…Do I want to know?"

He chuckled, setting the box down on he coffee table. From within, there was a tiny, high-pitched, "_Mrew_?" At once, Raine's expression shifted, and she stared as Regal lifted out a small, grey tabby kitten. It fit easily in the palm of his hand, sitting there, blinking wide-eyed around the room. Again, it mewed at the woman. "I took your advice," he informed her, not entirely without mirth. "Little one, meet your new mommy."

As he deposited the cat in Raine's lap, she lifted an eyebrow. "Her new _what_?"

Vaguely amused, he lifted his hand in apology. "Just a figure of speech. I meant nothing by it."

She pursed her lips and picked up the curious kitten, who had been falling all over herself trying to walk across the half-elf's lap. Standing, she handed the blinking creature back to him. "You got yourself a cat. Congratulations. Now, _you _get to take care of it. This is your adventure. If you expect me to take responsibility for this animal, you are sadly mistaken, Bryant. I'm washing my hands of this. If you want a pet, more power to you, but do me a favor and leave me out of it."

With that, he watched her pick up her book and disappear up the stairs, his head tilted slightly. Awfully defensive… Had he touched a nerve without meaning to? Regal looked down at the kitten in his hands, their expressions quite similar. But he would give Raine some time; he had a feeling she would warm up to the new house guest. Call it a hunch.

And, as predicted, this had been a good idea, indeed. He had a few of them, it seemed, and watching Raine's interactions with the tiny fluffball over the next several days, he grew increasingly certain that this was one of them. She had _said_ that she wanted nothing to do with the kitten, and yet whose book was being obscured by tufts of soft, striped fur whenever he walked into the room? Whose foot was playing the sparring partner to a fiesty feline when she thought he wasn't looking? Oh, no. She didn't want anything at _all _to do with it. Regal couldn't help but smile to himself now and then as he watched. He wasn't quite sure why it made him so happy to see _her _happiness, but then, she was his friend, and he was doing all he could to help her. Besides, in the time she'd been there, he had grown fond of her, and quite attached to her presence. In a purely _platonic _sense, of course. ...Of course...

"...You are doing it again, Bryant."

Regal blinked, startled from his reverie. At once, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side, and his expression relaxed into that same playful humoring with which he always regarded her. "Doing what?" he chuckled softly, tapping the edge of a thin stack of papers against the coffee table to align them. She was curled up in the corner of the sofa - as long as he wasn't on it, apparently, she was happy to use it - while he had taken a seat on the other side of the table to sort through a bit of company business. Between Raine and her book, a little, furry head popped into view to blink wide eyes that had yet to turn from blue at him. The kitten mewed as though to echo the sentiments of the half-elf whom she had adopted as her own.

"Staring at me. You do it a lot, and it's rather disturbing. You look like a love-stricken, day-dreaming schoolboy. What-" She was cut off as her purring, little friend butted her head up against her mouth. Pulling a bit of a face, she used one hand to scoop her up and deposit her on the floor. "Ahem. What, pray tell, is so fascinating about my face?"

Regal set his papers aside neatly and smiled slightly at the cat now waddling toward him, disgruntled. He reached down to pick her up and place her in his lap gently, before lifting his gaze to meet Raine's again. "I would imagine that a woman as _beautiful _as you are would be quite accustomed to that by now," he mused, mostly in jest. And, predictably, the half-elf rolled her eyes. "My apologies." This he added more seriously with a slight dip of his head. "I was simply lost in thought. I did not realize that I was staring at you."

Raine eyed him for a moment. "...You are a very strange man, Bryant." She shook her head and returned to her book. "But then, I suppose a man like _you _would be accustomed to hearing that by now." There was a soft rustle as she turned the page. The duke, however, had found himself dangling the ribbon that had once bound a stack of papers together, in order to amuse the kitten - and keep her from chewing on the ends of his hair, as the little creature was inclined to do.

At her remark, he chuckled again. "That I am, in no small part because of you, these days." When he glanced up to find her quizzical gaze locked on him once more, he released the ribbon and allowed his little companion to start gnawing on it triumphantly. "Aside from the many times you have told me so, many people here have felt obligated to tell me just what they think of my having you here. A criminal, in my own home, treated as an honored guest? And while some are too afraid to mention it, the boldest gossips have let it be known to the world just how improper it is for a bachelor such as myself to live alone with a young woman." His tone communicated quite clearly that he paid these accusations and rumors no mind. They were both more mature than that. Regal Bryant did not make advances by any stretch of the term, and Raine Sage - even as "Flare" - would not _allow _advances. Martel be with anyone who tried. And as for the idea of his trusting a criminal... While it was true that she had committed theft, she had harmed no one; none of those onlookers knew her as he knew her; and her well-being, mentally, emotionally, and physically, came before a disgruntled nobleman with an enormous chip on his shoulder in Regal's list of priorities.

"Well," she replied dryly as she went back to her pages, "they're right, strictly speaking. What did you expect? You're an immensely influential man, under near-constant scrutiny. Everything you do will be analyzed, not only locally, but across the political world. I do not envy you your position." At last, Raine marked her place and set the book aside. She rubbed her eyes, stretching. "But you had to know that, starting out."

He offered a slight, weary nod. He had known. Caring one way or another, however, was a different story. "If I put any stock in what other people thought of me on such a political level, I would be as shallow and miserable as the rest of the court. There is enough to worry about - and too much to enjoy - in life."

"You don't share the attitude of the court. You have a _brain._ That's refreshing. I had heard that you were different, and I do agree with the general consensus that you are completely insane, but.." She studied him for a few seconds. "That might not be all bad in this society."

The president quirked another little smile. "Thank you," he told her, sincerely. From Raine, he considered that a high compliment. She had no memory of him, or her brother, or anything after her childhood, but... She was still Raine. He could not have been more thankful for that. She had not lost herself, and that would make restoring what she _had _lost that much easier. That, and he was quite certain that he would have missed her personality. Abrasive as she was, she was...charming, in her own way. And her bluntness, her tendancy to seem cold and detached when in truth she was quite the opposite... It was all what made her who she was. To look at that face and not be able to associate it with books, sharp wit, strong will, and all things historical, would have been a trial for his heart, indeed.

Silence fell on the two of them for a few minutes. The kitten in Regal's lap had managed to tangle herself up in the ribbon before wearing out and flopping over entirely. He shook his head at it and scratched the soft head with two fingers. She had been right; while he had adopted a cat mostly because of her own expressed interest in one, he couldn't deny that he, too, was glad for it. Just a kitten, and already it seemed a promising companion. His eyes wandered back up toward Raine, who stared, as she did so often, through the window with that distant expression, and he wondered. If - _when _- she returned to normal, and she inevitably left Altamira...what of the kitten? Hmh...

Regal shook himself out of the odd thoughts. He wasn't even quite sure where they had been going, though the thought of her departure left a restless feeling in the pit of his stomach. He justified that with the idea that he was simply going to miss having someone around again, to speak with, and cook for. That was it. All the more reason, he supposed with an inward chuckle, that he should have this cat. This cat...who eally needed a name.

He looked back down at the snoozing hairball. Perhaps he hadn't named it himself, because he was waiting for her to do it. Why? He wasn't sure. She had, after all, made it quite plain that the kitten was his responsibility, even if she had been feeding- and spending time with it, too. It was _his _pet, so, logically, _he _should name it. But he was still reluctant.

"She still needs a name." At long last, he broke the silence with this suggestion, for all that he had told himself he wouldn't.

"So name her," came Raine's disinterested reply. "She's your pain in the neck, not mine."

His eyes half-closed in a mischievous expression, and on impulse, he quipped, "Sometimes, I wonder if that's not something you two have in common." It was more playful than he usually ventured to be, but somehow, it just seemed to fit the moment. And while he at once inwardly flinched, expecting to get one of Professor Sage's famous glares, she surprised him once more with a soft, "Heh." One eyebrow lifted. Well, at least he hadn't offended her. Ironic. Out of the entire reunification group, he was certain that the two of them would be voted most serious, and yet, here they were, ready and able to tease one another. Mildly, yes, but still. Oh, if the others saw them now...

The duke watched her for a moment longer. The tiny, wry smirk that had formed slowly faded, replaced by that same thoughtful, detached expression. He had no doubt that her pre-Altamira days occupied that incredible mind, and from the looks of it, they were dismal musings. He did wish he could help... Regal blinked. Perhaps he could, indeed. "Flare," he prodded. He was getting better at censoring himself, even if he did think- and speak of her privately as Raine. It was his way of refusing to accept that she would never recover - but there was no need to provoke her, and calling her by name did just that.

She flicked her violet gaze back at him, saying nothing, but indicating that she was listening. He took it as an invitation to continue.

"After dinner, would you like to take a walk?"

This piqued her interest, certainly. Her brow rose. "Letting me off my leash?" she asked dryly. "Or is this your tasteless version of a pickup line?"

He gave her the slightest chuckle. "Neither," he replied in good humor. A little more seriously, even gently, he added, "I simply thought you might like the chance to get out again. You haven't left here since our little trip to the Lezareno main building, and I imagine it must get quite dull with only these four walls and myself for company." Diplomatic to the very last.

To his delight – though that in itself startled him more than her reply – she accepted, and after a carefully crafted meal, they were off. The kitten was shut away with food and water in a room, so she didn't hurt herself or get into anything while they were gone. The evening was warm and clear, hazy pink scattered everywhere as the sun sank below the horizon. It was a perfect night for a stroll; he was glad.

For a while, they walked in silence at a slow, leisurely pace. His hands were linked behind his back, and she kept her distance from him, as usual. They ended up heading down along the winding beaches, deserted save for the most stubborn tourists, and as the comfortable breeze tousled their hair and clothes, he glanced back to find her staring off toward the horizon. Every time she took on that sad, distant air, he found himself frowning slightly; wishing she would talk to him about it. He wanted to help.

"…Flare?" Regal finally prodded, after respecting the silence for a few more minutes. "Are you alright?" He didn't have to speak very loud for her to hear him, and his tone itself was soft, as well. They had their share of conversation now that she had settled in a bit and gotten used to him, but this dreaminess she often slipped into unnerved him.

"Yes." Of course, a monosyllabic reply. A shutdown of his concern. He sighed inwardly. But as he racked his brain to think of another way to approach her, they came upon something washed onto a stretch of the beach hardly anyone used. It was most of a good sized, wooden basin. Lifting an eyebrow, he tilted his head. …That was odd.

It hadn't escaped Raine's notice, either – perhaps because he had inadvertently stopped walking when he saw it. She blinked, drifting slowly after him while he approached. Regal crouched, examining it. "…It looks like a—"

"Washtub," she murmured, almost too quietly to hear.

When he looked over his shoulder, he found her hanging back, staring at the basin. Slowly, he rose to his feet again and turned his scrutiny from the object on the beach, to the odd expression she wore.

"Thoda…"

"What about it?" he pressed, gently. His pulse quickened a little in anticipation. She had visited the Thoda Geyser on the Journey of Regeneration. Maybe, just maybe, this lucky piece of glorified driftwood had sparked something in her memory.

"The Geyser… There…there is something about the Geyser… The only way to get there, though, was…" She seemed unable to bring herself to continue. Her expression concerned him; she looked…afraid. But he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass.

"The only way to get there was in something like this," he finished for her, indicating the basin behind him. "You experienced that firsthand, if I understand correctly. On the Journey of Regeneration, you went to the Geyser, to the Temple of Water. Do you remember?" He took a step toward her, cautiously. "To release the Seal, and then later to form a pact with Undine…"

Her eyes never left that basin, even as he came closer. "A unicorn…"

"Yes. You sought Undine's help to reach a unicorn at Lake Umancy. Why? Tell me why you needed to contact the unicorn." He was trying to keep his voice level and calm, but it was proving difficult. He wanted her to come back. She was making progress… "Come on. Think." _Please… _He took her gently by the shoulders. "_Think_, Raine."

Unfortunately, his actions were counterproductive, it seemed. As soon as he'd touched her, and said her name, she shook herself out of the spell, and then out of his grip. "Don't call me that," she ordered, her voice gravelly. She _had _been afraid, and she still was.

"I'm sorry…"

"I want to go back." It was not a request, that much was certain as she turned her back to him and started off, her arms wrapped almost defensively around her middle.

Regal watched her for a moment, cursing himself mentally. He had been so sure… She _had _remembered something. But she had resisted it. It had unnerved her. And why shouldn't it? This was all entirely new to her. Everything she had once believed was being uprooted right before her eyes.

_I'm sorry, Raine. But I won't let you go that easily. You need to know… You need to come back. _


	12. Dreams

Hey, look, another new chapter. That was quick. =D And it's on the lengthier side again, yay.

I do have to say, though. I'm sorry about the issues with my chapter introductions and conclusions. I left the site for a while, and when I came back, I didn't realize they'd changed it so that you had to actively go in here and insert this line-thingy, instead of typing dashes yourself. x.X So now, in every on of my fictions, it's all messed up... If you have read, or do read, any of the others... I'm very sorry for the confusion and difficulty separating fiction from silliness. I just haven't had the motivation to go through each one, chapter by chapter, to fix it. I have, like, twenty-four or something.

So, again. I'm sorry. It's not that I don't like talking to Raine and getting smacked upside the head anymore. It was just easier to delete that part of the existing chapters when fixing it. Please bear with me and all of Fanfiction-net's irritating...ness.

* * *

Raine's behavior after the incident on the beach left Regal concerned. He followed her back to the house that evening, not daring to speak again. How much she actually had remembered, he wasn't sure, but he was reluctant to ask, given her reaction to the whole situation. The best thing to do was probably just to leave her alone for a while; but that, too, bothered him. Not that he had any choice, in the end. She disappeared into her room within seconds of entering the house. He had scarcely followed her through the door and closed it gently behind him when he heard hers slam upstairs and flinched ever so slightly.

He kneaded his forehead and glanced about the empty living room, as though trying to figure out what to do with himself in the midst of all this uncertainty and tension. At last, he thought to check on the kitten in his den. It was something he could feel useful and productive doing. Right now, it was probably the _only _thing that would accomplish that.

He had known, hadn't he, that it would be a long, rough road? What had he expected? Still, though. Guilt and worry gnawed at him. He glanced upward as the cat pawed at the cuff of his pants. He had seen the fear, the shock, the confusion and anxiety in her eyes. She had resisted him from the very start, but now… Now she felt… Regal blinked as it dawned on him. She felt _vulnerable_.

With a frown, he sank down to sit on the edge of his desk. That explained much of her behavior, yes, but it only worried him more. Raine Sage was a highly independent woman who went to great lengths to maintain composure and strength. She was willful and stubborn. Having no stable ground on which to stand, she now floundered in a sea of mismatched, falsified, hazy fragments of memories – some of which were lies in themselves. She _was _scared, and she had every reason to be. This feeling, no doubt, was one of the worst such a woman could experience.

"I'm afraid this is a very difficult situation, little one," he sighed down at the mewing creature sitting by his foot. "Genis knew nothing of her condition, either. I had planned to ask him here to help remind her, but now… I fear that would only pressure her further. And that, I think, is something we want to avoid at all cost." _Raine…_

Again, he glanced toward the ceiling. It pained him to think of her, alone up in her room, struggling to make sense of these new revelations and come to terms with them at the same time. He _wanted _to help. Why it was such a desperate desire, he wasn't sure. He just…wanted to see her smile again. He didn't want to watch her suffer any longer. He wanted to see her beautiful, intelligent face alight again with excitement at unearthing some artifact of the ancient world. She was too brilliant, too caring, too intricate and complex, too _special_, for him to let go of her as she had once been… But most of all, he wanted to ease this turmoil of hers. It just wasn't fair.

Another mew, and the feeling of little paws trying to scrabble up his leg, brought Regal back to the real world. He blinked down at the kitten. …His thoughts had taken an odd turn that left him, for the second time, restless and wondering. He shook his head to clear it and stooped to pick up the hairball before standing. "All we can do tonight, my little friend, is wait." Perhaps the most difficult path to follow, but the only one available to him. …It might prove to be a long night. He did hope she would not hide in her shell for long, but it all had to be on her time. When she was ready, they would continue.

And so it was that he made sure the door was locked and every light was extinguished downstairs, before heading up to retire for the night, the cat riding quite contentedly upon his broad shoulder. He glanced briefly down the hall toward Raine's room, from which no light emanated, and then slipped into his own. Softly, he shut the door behind him and prepared himself for bed. The kitten – if she didn't name the poor creature soon, he would have to – watched all of this from the pillow, her head tilted and eyes fixed in apparent fascination on her "daddy". He couldn't help but give a weary smile at the utter innocence in that admittedly adorable, little face. She didn't understand what was happening, but there was a knowing empathy in those big eyes.

"…We'll get through this," he assured his new charge as he scooted her over enough to let him lie down. "She's strong. She won't give up; neither will we." He lifted the blanket to allow the purring ball of fur to crawl under it and curl up against his chest. The soft, lazy sound relaxed his stressed mind, and his tense body soon followed. Within minutes, merciful sleep had taken him.

Regal had an odd dream that night – one that, had he been conscious at the time, would have bothered him immensely. He dreamt of Raine; that she was back in her right mind. He was with her, somewhere deep in the Gaoracchia Forest. Something was bothering her… She was apologizing… She was about to leave. Shadows lurked all around them, swaying and dancing and shifting. Vines slithered behind her, and eerie, haunting voices whispered unintelligibly from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Something was wrong. There was something horrible about her leaving… The shadows were going to take her. She was going to give herself up and let the shadows smother her. She would fade away and be lost forever. Why? She had no choice, she said. It was for him. He didn't understand; he reached for her. He wouldn't let her go. He wanted an explanation. He would protect her. She didn't have to go…

No. There was nowhere for her now. She had to go. The shadows moved restlessly; the vines crept closer; the voices grew louder. They were calling her. But there was something she had to say before she went. Something she had to do. What was it? Raine, don't go…

The distance between them lessened, though he was sure neither of them had moved. He reached out, but somehow his hand never quite touched her. The vines and shadows reached for her, too, coming closer…closer… But he was looking at her. She had her face upturned, violet eyes gazing at him. She said something, but he couldn't hear it over the growing rustles and hisses. She lifted one hand vaguely toward him, as well, before…

All in the same, abrupt instant, there was an explosion of noise, the shadows and vines lashed out and enveloped her, the entire world seemed to lurch—

And he awoke with a start, rising up to lean on one arm. He could feel his heart racing, and images from the dream lingered before his bleary eyes. After he had used his other hand to rub at them, however, he was startled further as the silhouette of a woman came into view, sitting on the edge of his bed, straight-backed and staring at the wall. She wasn't moving at all, except for the occasional blink of her eyes, but in the moonlight, he could make out the silvery hair and delicate profile.

"Ra—Flare?" he asked, his voice gravelly with the sleep that still clung to him like a cobweb. No doubt, the lurch in his dream had been her act of sitting on the bed. Slowly, he rose into a full sitting position and rubbed the rest of the grogginess from his face with the heels of his hands. If she had come to him like this, in the middle of the night… There was something wrong. "Are you alright?"

She was quiet and still for another moment, before quietly replying, "Yes."

_Come now, Raine. I'm not a fool. _"You don't seem it. The only reason you would come to find me in such a manner would be if something was bothering you." He started to shift into a better position, but he froze when something caught his attention. He felt it, more than he saw it… She was trembling.

Startled, he reached out carefully to touch her shoulder. "…Flare… Tell me what happened. Please?" He had known she had been upset, but…to this extent? It couldn't just be the beach incident.

"…A dream," she murmured at length. "I had… I had a dream."

Under other circumstances, perhaps he might have been amused. It was the night of unsettling dreams, he supposed. As it was, however, he did not bring up his own. In all honesty, he wasn't at all certain he himself wanted to remember that one. "About what?" he prodded gently.

Her head lowered slightly, a veil of hair curtaining her face from view. "I don't know," she confided softly. "So many faces… People I don't know, whom I feel like I should, somehow… I don't understand anything I saw, but I saw so many things... Nothing made sense at all..." She didn't have to say it; it was evident in her tone. She was afraid again. Raine tensed further. "_I don't understand_!" And that in itself was one of the most significant things she could have said. Raine Sage, failing to understand something. It would infuriate her. But what was more, she failed to understand something about _herself_. Oh, Raine. His hand found a more certain hold on her shoulder as his brow creased ever so slightly in a frown.

"It's going to be alright." Instinctively, he drew his thumb back and forth across her shoulder. He didn't really even think about it. He just wanted to provide comfort. "I told you that I would help you, and I do not break my word. Particularly not to my friends."

She shuddered under his grasp, hugging herself tightly and balling handfuls of her shirt in either hand. "I don't know who I am. What am I supposed to do? Everything I knew… Everything I believed… Everything I thought I wanted. All at once, everything is dissolving and changing. So who am I? I'm not the woman I was before I lost my memory, because I don't know who she was. I don't know how to be. And I can't just be told who I was, or how I should act. I can't let someone else tell me what to be, but…" She lifted one hand to spread it over her face.

"…Flare. Let me ask you… What do _you _want?"

She lifted her head a bit, turning it slowly to look at him. "What?"

"What do you want?" he echoed. "What do you want to do; who do you want to be? Where do you want to go?"

Raine was quiet for a long time, looking away again. "…I _want _to understand. I want to make sense of the jumbled mess in my mind. I want to remember my life. I want… I want to be myself."

Her reply made him smile a little. "And that's what I want, as well. It will take time, and it may not be easy, but… I want to help you. We _will _get you through this, and you _will _once again be the stubborn, brilliant, incredible woman you were, and are. Patience."

There was another stretch of silence. Without realizing it, he had started to rub her shoulder. It felt natural. When she finally spoke again, however, he found himself caught off-guard.

"I want to stay here," she stated. Her voice was quiet, but he could hear the words quite clearly. "You will let me stay here, with you…right? I don't understand…any of this. I need to. I have to know… I don't like this feeling, but I _have _to know the truth. And the only thing I have any confidence in right now – the only thing I can trust…is you."

His mouth opened, but no sound came out at first. He just blinked at her. His silence made her turn her face toward him, and the way the moonlight illuminated half of her face and left the other half in shadow caused something to tighten in his stomach. He was suddenly very aware of her warm shoulder, her slight frame, the unusual, captivating color of her eyes… She _was _beautiful. And she…needed him…

His dream came to mind – how something threatened to take her away. How he had wanted to-, but _failed _to protect her. The look in her eyes now was so very hauntingly similar to the gaze in his dream. He just studied that gaze for what seemed like hours. He had grown fond of her, indeed. Without even realizing it, it seemed, he had grown very fond of her… Impulse took hold again, and he leaned forward to pull her gently into his arms. Regal felt her tense at first, no doubt startled as he was himself by this new development, but she soon relaxed. She even hesitantly allowed herself to lean into him, and he lowered his head toward hers.

"I'm not going anywhere, Raine," he assured her in a tone just above a whisper. "I swear to you. I will not abandon you. And I will not let your trust in me prove to be misplaced. It's going to be alright."

He knew they would still have issues. There would still be snags and bumps in the road. She was still Raine, which meant she would still be abrasive and challenge everything he said, but… She trusted him. She had told him so herself, leaving him undeniably surprised. And now, more than ever before, he was determined to do everything humanly possible to set things right.

He held her that night, allowing her to drift back to sleep in his arms as he stroked her hair now and then. Whether or not she would feel the same way after her memory was restored remained to be seen; but he knew now how _he _felt, and he did not break a promise. He had made terrible mistakes with Alicia. He was not going to do the same with Raine.


	13. Threat of Clarity

Hey, look, a new chapter. AND I remembered to put in the little...line...bar...thingy this time. Yay! n.n

Raine: Congratulations. -eyeroll-

Someone's bitter. Sheez... You just got one of the cutest bonding scenes ever in the last chapter, and you're still in a horrible mood.

Raine: Because you're still writing.

I'm a writer.

Raine: You're an imbecile.

You're mean.

Raine: Deal with it.

...Man. Someone needs a happy pill or two. Maybe I'll go borrow some from Colette. In the mean time... Read and review, people-who-aren't-balls-of-hatred-like-Raine.

* * *

The next morning brought with it an odd mix of feelings, at least on her part. The first things she noticed were the two strong arms wrapped about her, holding her snuggly against a warm chest that rose and fell in steady, even breaths. As her eyes fluttered open, she found her cheek resting against his nightshirt, one of her hands hooked very lightly by her fingertips in the fabric. She blinked a time or two, and their midnight visit came back to mind. So...it had not been a dream. And she had spent the night cradled in his arms.

Gingerly, she slid herself out of his hold and sat up, propping herself up with her palm against the unoccupied pillow. Bryant was sound asleep, leaning against the headboard in the seated position she had last seen him. ...That could not have been terribly comfortable. Peculiar, eccentric man.

Flare combed out her hair a little with her fingers, rubbing her eyes with the other hand. The light of early morning was spilling through the window and falling in patches across the bedclothes. Though said window was closed, she could hear faintly the birds outside bidding a good morning to the world. Beside Bryant lay the little kitten, snoozing just as quietly as his daddy. ...It was all so peaceful...

She reached over to stroke the creature's head. One blue eye opened to peer at her, and that head lifted shortly thereafter with a bleary blink. With the faintest traces of a smile, the woman carefully scooted off the bed and rose to her feet. She had to pause a moment to stretch her stiffened back, but after that, she wandered toward the window.

There was no denying what had happened during the night. Not after waking up in his arms; not after everything he had said. Everything _they _had said. She glanced over her shoulder at the nobleman's sleeping form. Had that been wise? How had it even _happened_? The weary smile strengthened just a little as she shook her head again and leaned forward on the sill. She felt safe here; it felt familiar, and comfortable. It felt...like home. She was so much at ease in his presence; more so than she ever had been with the Circle, though she never would have realized it. Odd, the effect he had had on her from the very beginning. She trusted him, though. She couldn't explain why, exactly, and her better judgment was in no way certain of this decision, but she trusted him. With everything else in her mind going haywire, and the very foundations upon which she had built her life and identity crumbling beneath her feet, he was all she _could _trust, though she had only known him for a few weeks. Did that seem illogical, and perhaps a bit naïve, to anyone? Heh. She was getting soft.

Maybe he wouldn't remember. Maybe, if she left the room now, he would wake up and forget everything that had happened. Maybe he had only been half-awake to begin with. And maybe, just maybe, she would see a pig glide by the window.

Sighing, Flare made her silent way toward the door. A mew from the bed drew her attention back to the kitten, who stared at her expectantly. Hungry, she supposed. "...Well, come on then," she beckoned in a hushed voice. The little beast took his cue and scampered clumsily over the bed. His landing after jumping down was...less than graceful, but, unperturbed, he trotted along after his mistress as she slipped through the door and closed it softly behind her.

Together they crept across the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. "You know," Flare told the anxious furball at her foot as she prepared his breakfast – which was less dangerous than trying to concoct something for humanoid consumption. "You _do _need a name. I really don't know why he hasn't given you one yet, but we can't keep calling you 'The Kitten,' or 'Hey You.'" The creature mewed in response, and she stooped to set the bowl on the floor. She shook her head again, stepped over the cat, and drifted back out into the living room to let her thoughts go back to wandering.

It was so different here than back..."home". At Headquarters, she would be training, or accepting a mission, or even carrying one out already. Those missions ranged from intelligence, to combat, to assassinations, and they were all good at what they did. That _was _what they did. Sometimes it was for clients, sometimes it was for their own purposes, but they had all done it without question. She had never actually taken a life – within her limited memory, anyway – but she had been on the other side of the law. She had been in what most people would call the wrong. Here? She was almost normal.

As she passed a window, her reflection made her pause. She stopped and turned to it, studying her own eyes, her face. She had never questioned orders before. Here she was now, though, picking apart her allegiance and doubting absolutely everything she had supposedly ever known. Flare spread her palms out face-up and looked down at them. After a moment, she closed her eyes, released a soft sigh, and curled her fingers into fists. "So frustrating," she murmured, rubbing her face.

"Yes. I can see how this confinement would frustrate you."

She froze. That voice... She knew that voice, soft and calm. Her head snapped toward the source. "F-Fang," she breathed, violet eyes wide as they took in the sight of the Circle's leader himself. He was an impressive presence, no doubt, with his formidable build and height, but he had always been softened, she felt, by his blue eyes and thoughtful features. The smile he had always given her in private, and gave her again here and now as he rose from the sofa... This man was supposed to be her enemy? A liar? A fraud?

"I'm glad to see that you're alright," he told her. "You had me worried when you didn't return, you know." He reached out to touch her cheek, but without thinking, she recoiled a bit and stepped out of his reach. A frown passed over his features briefly. "What's the matter with you?" he chuckled, quizzically. His eyes slowly trailed up toward the ceiling. "...Ah. Bryant."

Flare flicked her own gaze upward briefly, but it soon landed right back on Fang. Bryant was still asleep; there were no sounds from above. Naturally. Fang wouldn't have risked such blatant exposure.

"What has he told you?" He dropped his half-outstretched hand and wandered back toward the sofa. Her eyes never left him, even as he sat down, rested one ankle on the opposite knee, spread his arms out over the back of the seat, and looked back up at her intently. "That we're criminals? That we're...wrong? That you don't belong with us anymore? What lie has he fed you, Flare? You're smarter than that."

She retained her silence, however, just watching him. In her weeks with Regal Bryant, she had never heard him utter a lie to anyone, for all that she still challenged his stories about her past. And yet, in all the time that she had worked in the Circle, every one of them had lied, on many occasions.

After a moment of receiving no reply, Fang heaved a sigh and leaned forward, both feet on the floor now and forearms resting on his thighs. "...In any case, I've come to bring you back with me."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she finally spoke. "Why?" she challenged quietly. "So you can have me killed?"

He blinked. "Killed?" he echoed. "Why in the world would I do that? Flare, if I wanted you dead, there are much simpler ways to go about it than coming here myself. We _are _assassins, after all." The smile he gave her was meant to invite her to join the joke, she was sure – but she did not.

"I failed. I allowed myself to be captured, and I have been out of contact for weeks, living in the home of a man very clearly stated to be an enemy..According to the Circle's code, that-" She was silenced as he held up his hand.

"I'm aware of our code, remember? But we're not soldiers, Flare. And you and I... We're like family. I'm not letting you go so easily. So you made a mistake. And? We all do that. I know you haven't done anything to betray us, and I know that you never will. I trust you with my life, Flare; why don't you trust me?" Another quick glance toward the ceiling seemed to enlighten him a bit. "...Bryant," he repeated, kneading his forehead. "This is why I told you to be very careful of him," he mumbled.

Her brow creased. "...What do you mean?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter now." Again, he rose to his feet. Fang looked at her, his expression pained as he searched her face. "...You care about him, don't you?" The man released a sigh as she only narrowed her eyes and turned them away. "You will never belong here, Flare. You are one of us. You will always be one of us. You can't erase all of our time together. I care about you, too – more than this stuffed-shirt nobleman ever could. And if I have to remove him from the picture to clear your vision and make you see that...I will. I don't want to, Flare, because I don't want to hurt you. But I will."

Creaking from above alerted them both to Bryant's waking. She glanced up one more time, but when she had looked back down again, Fang was gone. Flare simply stared at the place she had seen him standing just a second before, her heart still pounding, and his last words still echoing over and over in her mind.

...What now...?

* * *

Dun Dun Dun!

Raine: -facepalm-

...What?

Raine: You do know that I hate you. Correct?

Yup.

Raine: You also know that Regal probably hates you, as well. Correct?

Yupyup.

Raine: ...Alright. Just making sure.


	14. It's Never Nothing

Another chapter arrives at last. You know, I was looking over a bunch of my fictions, and I was shocked, amazed, and appalled to see some of the dates on which I started many of the ones I haven't finished yet. And I found out that my first ever official Tales of Symphonia fanfiction was written four. Years. Ago. o.o CRAZY.

Raine: I can't believe I've been forced to sit through this idiocy for four years.

I can't believe it either, Rainesy. It seems like only yesterday.

Raine: Only...four years...

...You know you love it. And thank you, readers, for gettin' me through these years! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

**Note: The lyrics you'll read in this were written by Katethegreat19 on YouTube. I do not own them. Go watch her videos; she's incredible.**

* * *

He had awoken that morning somewhat stiff, finding himself still in that half-upright position. But, after the night's events had come back to his groggy mind, he had looked down at his empty arms, and then around the empty room. ...Raine must have already gotten up, and by the looks of things, she had taken the kitten with her. He must have really been out, to have stayed asleep through all of her movements. The last he had known, she had been snuggly settled in his arms.

Hiding a yawn behind one large hand, Regal disentangled himself from the bedclothes and rose. Vaguely, he did wonder where she had gone off to, but he supposed he would see soon enough. He only hoped she had not been up all by herself for too long. She would probably be hungry... He would start breakfast as soon as he got downstairs, he decided.

It was...odd, he reflected as he dressed himself and stood before the mirror, pulling his hair into a neat, nobleman's braid. Over the weeks, he had been growing more and more comfortable with her presence. He enjoyed the time they spent together. Now, though, he actively looked forward to going down there and seeing her face; hearing her voice. He wanted, now more than ever, just to be around her, to do things for her, to see that tiny, wry smile – to stay at her side, as promised. There seemed to be no denying it. For the second time, he had fallen. Unintentionally, unexpectedly, but he had fallen nonetheless – and hard. He had to chuckle at himself. It was odd, but it was also a good feeling. He was going downstairs _to _someone. Someone he cared about, and...someone who cared about him. Yes, they had bade one another good morning every day for the past few weeks, but this one would be different. So as he left his bedroom and made for the stairs, there was a small, absent-minded smile playing on his lips.

"Hm?Oh... Good morning, little one," he greeted the ball of fur who had just trotted toward him. She put her front paws up against his ankle, mewing at him. The smile he had turned toward her, however, turned a little quizzical when he noticed something that had not been there the last time he'd seen her. There was a little ribbon tied around her neck, and something was hanging from it. Regal tilted his head and crouched to examine it.

With one finger, he lifted the little charm and inspected it. Something was written on it... "Azrael," he read aloud. It took him a moment, but at last it dawned on him. The smile returned, creasing the corners of his eyes with amusement. She had named the kitten after all. "Well, then," he said, scooping her into his hand and scratching her head with the other, "welcome to the family, Azrael. Come. Let's find Raine and thank her."

The duke rose to his feet, allowing Azrael to crawl up onto his shoulder and curl herself in the crook of his neck. His little passenger settled, he started into the living room in search of his other companion. When he came upon her and started to speak, however, he stopped himself and just watched there from a few feet away. She was standing near a window, staring through it and singing very softly to herself. She had a beautiful, soothing voice, and he found himself sitting lightly on the arm of the sofa just to listen.

_"War leaves its trail in moonlight so pale; the shadows, they flow in rivers and rivers. So put on my mask, I'll go where they ask, so I might once again see the Roses of May..." _

The kitten started to purr lazily against his neck and he reached up idly to stroke her. The words of Raine's song... Was it purely coincidence; just a song she happened to know? Or did they stem out of her own thoughts? Still sitting there, his free hand lying limp in his lap, Regal finally decided to announce his presence gently. "Good morning."

Despite his caution and soft tone, she jumped. Her song ceased abruptly, and she looked over her shoulder at him quickly. After a few seconds, she turned completely. "...Good morning," she replied in turn. She leaned backward on the sill even as he stood and started the close the distance between them a little. "How long have you been sitting there?"

He chuckled. "Only a moment or two," he assured her. "How long have _you _been up?"

"Not long. Half an hour, perhaps. Long enough to make myself presentable and feed the nuisance." Raine gestured vaguely toward Azrael, who in response opened one eye and gave an almost impossibly wide yawn for one so small. Here, though, his eyes danced in amusement again. Noting this, she lifted an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, eyeing him. With one finger, he tapped the nametag around the kitten's neck, and the half-elf looked away, pursing her lips. "_You _weren't going to name her."

"I would have been forced to, if you hadn't. But I must confess that I was waiting for you to do it. Azrael, hm? I like it. As, I believe, does she." He twisted his head to look at the little creature, who was now climbing all over his shoulder and trying, once more, to chew on his hair. What the appeal was, he was not quite sure, but he scooped her up again and deposited her on the floor gently. There, she promptly began pouncing on very likely imaginary prey. Heh... From catnap to playtime in seconds. He shook his head and lifted his eyes back to Raine, who had also been watching Azzy.

"It's a name out of a book I once read." Why did that not surprise him? he mused.

"As good a source as any. How did you sleep, Rai-" Oh... Hmm. That was a bit of a predicament. What was he to call her now? "Ah... My apologies. Would you still prefer I call you Flare?"

She blinked at him, looking as though she herself wasn't sure anymore. For a moment, she was silent. Then, finally, "Yes. Until I can recall who _Raine _is, the name does not, rightfully, fit me."

He almost sighed, but luckily, he managed to refrain. He disagreed, most entirely. Calling her by her _real _name was to, in some small way, refuse to accept that she was lost. And didn't they both want that? But he also did not want to upset her. So... "Flare it is, then. Did you sleep well?"

"After that harrowing dream, yes."

He nodded, though he was also examining her now that she was looking back through the window rather than at him. There was something odd in her manner. It was just a slight anomaly, and it could have been his imagination, but.. Hmh. Perhaps she was simply still unnerved by that dream. If that was the case... Well. One step at a time; they were making progress. He knew that much. "I apologize for leaving you alone this morning-" Regal broke off suddenly, blinking downward.

Rather abruptly, and before he had realized, Raine had left the window and come over to him. Now, she had her hands hooked in the back of his shirt, her cheek laying against his chest. Slowly, after recovering from the initial surprise, he wrapped his own arms about her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "What's wrong?" he asked, gently. He allowed his fingertips to trail up and down along her spine, hoping to offer comfort. To have the freedom, physically and emotionally, to hold a woman again... It surprised him to find just how good it felt – and just how _natural _it felt, holding Raine. Never in a thousand years would he have thought, traveling around with her and the others during their journey to reunite the worlds, that the day would come that would find them standing this way.

"...Nothing. I...just wanted to thank you."

He pulled back just enough that he could look at her without removing his hands from her back. The hesitation in her voice concerned him. Many a time during the journey had something been bothering her, only to have her brush it off with the statement, "No, it's nothing." Every time Raine had said "nothing," it had proved to be very much "something". His gut told him that this would be no different. "For what?" Instinctively, he started to rub her back again. It almost amused him to imagine what anyone they knew would think, seeing them now. He dreaded learning what the court would think, but that was a matter best left ignored for as long as possible. It didn't matter, in the end, but it would be unpleasant.

Raine shook her head. She appeared to be mildly flustered. "Nothing. Never mind, don't worry about it."

"...Are you certain?" _She _didn't remember her tendency toward denial, but _he _did.

"Yes." This time, her reply was prompt and plain. If something was wrong, she was not going to elaborate. Perhaps it was simply his imagination after all, for all that a little voice kept nagging at the back of his mind. Thoughts of his own dream threatened to surface, as well, but he pushed them away. No sense getting upset over something that might not even be an issue.

So, deciding to concede the victory, he closed the subject with a soft, "Alright. Well... You are quite welcome, though I am still not sure exactly why." A little smile tugged at his lips again. He drew her close enough, after a brief hesitation, to kiss her forehead. "Are you hungry?" he inquired afterward.

Raine's smooth mask dissolved into the slightest chuckle. "Every time I turn around, you ask me that question. You really do enjoy cooking a little too much, I think; it seems to take second place only to company business."

"I am a man of simple pleasures, easily amused. Forgive me." He released her from his grasp with a smile slightly more pronounced.

"It's probably a good thing you did get a cat, then." She tossed a glance toward Azrael, who was busy attacking the swaying shadows cast by breeze-stirred leaves outside the window. "...The two of you appear to have that, at least, in common."

With a soft chuckle, he turned and headed toward the kitchen. She started to follow, but it seemed that she thought better of it and decided, instead, to go back to her window. Regal paused for just a split second, but he soon carried on his way, curious as he was. There _was _something bothering her. He had watched her during the journey to reunite the worlds, as he had taken notice of all of their companions, and he had observed her in the past few weeks they had been living together. He knew her better than she wanted to admit – or, at least, he could read her better. She was trying to appear casual, but... Obviously, it was not because she was flustered over the previous night's events. She had willingly returned to his arms a moment ago. And yet, he did have a feeling it had something to do with him, all the same. It concerned him.

He did not in the least, however, predict the manner in which his suspicions would be confirmed.

* * *

What does that mean?

Raine: Only. Four. Years. x.X

...Are you still on that? An entire chapter of cute and mysterious, and you're still brooding over that?

Raine: You've been writing this drabble since you were-

HEY. No one needs to know how old I am. We humans are sensitive about that.

Raine: -facepalm- This is so depressing.


	15. Farewell

New chapter. Thank you, by the way, for the nice reviews. :D

Raine: Oh, yes. Thank you so very much for boosting her ego.

You're just jealous because I have friends.

Raine: I'd take a good book over these imbeciles you call "friends" any day.

Dang, girl. You have looks, health, love...and you're still a miserable, old-

Raine: Maiya. Before you say something we'll both regret...

...I think that was a threat...

Raine: -facepalm- Just start the blasted chapter!

Okay, GOSH.

_

* * *

_

_"You don't belong here. You will never belong here."_

Violet eyes reopened to stare out through the glass of the window before her. Fang's voice echoed over and over again in her mind, relentlessly reminding her of everything that was at stake. Everything she didn't know.

_"And if I have to remove him from the picture to clear your vision and make you see that, I will." _

Her jaw clenched a little. Behind her, hidden away in the kitchen, Bryant was preparing breakfast. He was completely oblivious to her agonizing. Oblivious to the fact that his life was in danger...because of her. Fang did not bluff, not when it came to matters such as these. He went to great lengths to protect his people, and she had always respected him for that. But this time...

Flare dropped her forehead against the window with a dull clunk. She had friends back in the Circle. She had _Fang _back in the Circle. But Bryant was here, and he had told her that every tie she had to the Circle was a complete and utter lie. If her life had really gone as he had said – which every flash and fragment seemed to reaffirm – then she had had nothing to do with Fang or any of the others until very recently. But still, even after all of those little bits and pieces, she had no idea who she really was. She couldn't remember anything significant. And with Fang reappearing, and all of the clear memories of the Circle, and being part of it, she suddenly felt out of place here, in the "normal" world.

_"You will never belong here."_

Had he been right? Truth or not, was it really a lost cause to try and regain everything she had forgotten? She had stayed in Altamira, because she had had nowhere else to go. She had been certain that, if she returned, she would be killed. Now, though, she had been offered a place back among her old peers...but...things had changed since then. She had become so comfortable living here. She had come to accept it, to like it, to like _him_.

_"And if I have to remove him from the picture..."_

She twisted to look over her shoulder and toward the kitchen where she could still hear him rummaging around. Everything he had done since her arrival, he had done for her. And now, her thanks to him was to put his life on the line simply by being here. Fang _would _carry out his threat; she was certain of that, if nothing else. She knew how to be Flare better than she knew how to be Raine. She had a place there, where it didn't matter who she was, exactly. It was only logical, wasn't it? For the sake of everyone involved...

She had to go.

Flare narrowed her eyes at her own reflection. She didn't have a choice this time. She knew very well the Circle and its methods, and she could not let them get their hands on him. Who would have thought that it would come down to this? Returning to the order as a sacrifice, to save the life of a man she had started off hating. Bryant was something of a hostage, and he didn't even know it. Now, she just had to figure out how she was going to get out of Altamira. Ah, the irony.

She straightened up and looked back over her shoulder as Bryant reentered the room carrying two plates, as always. Azzy trotted after him, trying to catch the cuffs of his pants as he walked. The half-elf couldn't help but smile very faintly at the sight, but she hung back a moment. She had to compose herself entirely. She could not afford for him to be the least bit suspicious. No, her getaway had to be clean. She did not want a confrontation about it. It would only end badly.

Taking a deep breath with her face turned momentarily away to hide it, she turned at last and moved to join her host. "Riddle me this, Bryant," she began as she took the seat he dutifully slid out for her. "How did an important, prestigious political figure such as yourself ever learn to cook? Surely you had people positively throwing themselves at your feet for a chance to provide your meals."

He chuckled, a little bitterly, as he stepped over Azrael and slipped into his own chair. "...You and I have a few things in common, Flare. One of them is the desire to do things for ourselves. I very much disliked, and still dislike now, the idea of having domestic servants whose purpose is to cater to my every whim. There is no satisfaction in that; no self worth. To lord my status over the heads of everyone else would be to suggest that I am superior, or more important, than they. And that, my dear, is the very farthest thing from my beliefs. I like the accomplishment of a job well done, and I find cooking to be a very relaxing hobby." As he glanced back at her, there was a little sparkle in his eye. "Does that answer your question, or did I simply ramble on?"

Flare tore a little piece off of her toast. "You rambled." She popped the piece into her mouth daintily and continued after swallowing, "But in doing so, you answered the question, too, I suppose. Come to think of it, I haven't seen anything like a maid in all the time I've been here. That is rather odd for a man of your position. Didn't you used to employ 'domestic servants'?"

Slowly, he set down his fork. "...I did," he replied softly. "A long time ago. It was not my idea, but I went along with it just to make those around me happy. However, I have not done so again...since..." He trailed off, but he didn't need to elaborate. They both knew what he was talking about, and there was a span of silence between them.

At long last, after nibbling on her toast and metaphorically prying her foot out of her mouth, Flare broke it. "Well. I must say, it is nice to see a man take charge of his own life and do for himself. Particularly a nobleman. It really is no wonder that you're called peculiar, though."

She was relieved despite herself to find that her words seemed to lighten his mood. He smiled slightly and looked up at her once more. "'Same old' can get excruciatingly dull."

"Dull, you are not."

His smile strengthened, and the cloud of his haunted past dissolved the rest of the way. She relaxed a little inwardly and went back to her food, though with the tension released from the atmosphere, she almost sighed as her predicament crept back into her thoughts. She didn't have time for this banter. It was too easy to get lost in it. It was dangerous; she could _not _reconsider her decision. But she also couldn't just up and walk out, either. Somehow, she doubted that Fang would take kindly to having Bryant tag along after her like a loyal puppy.

"...Are you alright, Flare?"

His voice brought her out of her pondering. Without realizing it, she had apparently stopped eating and begun frowning down at her plate. The expression melted, and she lifted her gaze. "What? Oh... Yes. I'm just...not feeling very well right now."

"Your sleep was interrupted last night... You may be tired." He spoke slowly and deliberately, studying her with that eerie, knowing gaze. Concern laced his features, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. He only ever considered her. Martel only knew her disappearance would affect him; she could only hope that he'd leave well enough alone and let her go in peace.

"Perhaps. I think I'll live, however." She looked down at her plate. She had eaten most of her breakfast, but she couldn't bring herself to finish. She just wasn't hungry anymore. So, Flare rose to her feet and disappeared with her dishes into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, both he and Azrael followed. He tried to take the plate from her, but she stepped gracefully out of his reach, insisting upon having some part in cleanup, at least. It took him a moment, but he eventually relaxed into a resigned, little smile of amusement and stepped back with his palms facing her, and the two of them went about working together to wash the dishes.

"I've been thinking," Bryant finally piped up as he ran a drying cloth over the surface of a plate.

She glanced up at him, tucking hair behind her ear with the knuckles of one damp hand. "Is that the explosion I heard?" she quipped in return. A wry half-smile tugged at her lips when she heard his quiet chuckle beside her, and she went back to her work. "...About what?"

"Do you recall when I mentioned Iselia?"

"My memory loss only dates up to before I met you, Bryant. Pardon me – before I met you _again_." She handed him the plate she had just washed, and he accepted it with a smile and a shake of his head.

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed. Anyway, I suggested that we take a trip there to, hopefully, jog your memory. You spent at least five years of your life there; I believe that it's worth a try."

Flare had picked up a towel and started to dry her hands, but at his suggestion, her movements slowed gradually. Take a trip? The irony kept piling up. She stepped around him with the expressed motive of hanging up the towel, but the real purpose was to hide her expression. "I do believe I told you my views on that once before. I am at your mercy, My Lord; do as you will."

"I'm glad you haven't changed." She could hear the smile lingering strong in his voice. "But if you insist upon giving me complete freedom..." From behind, his arms slipped around her. "I won't complain."

She stood there for a moment, her hands resting against his forearms. Gently, he rocked them back and forth, and she found herself amused at this unlikely Romeo. He was sweet, sensitive, gentle... He would make someone a fine companion...someday. . In moments like this, it seemed so easy – but reality was always just outside, wasn't it? That someone wasn't her, and that someday was not today.

"We can go today, if you'd like," he told her, his chin resting in her hair.

She cocked an eyebrow. "A bit short on notice, isn't it? By the way you eat, sleep, and breathe company business, I was sure the Lezareno would crumble to the ground without you."

Bryant shook his head. "One of the beautiful things about being the president of a company is the privilege of delegation," he mused. "I don't think a few days' absence will trigger the apocalypse. I'll go in today and tie up a few loose ends, and we can leave this afternoon—if you want to go. Despite what we've said, it _is _your choice."

Flare blinked, scarcely even noticing that they'd stopped rocking. He would go into the office today. He would be gone...all day... "Good," she murmured, mostly to herself.

"Pardon?"

Her gaze focused again, and she tilted her head back to look up at him. "...I was saying...that I think it's a good idea to go." His eyes seemed to search hers for a moment. Even when she broke eye contact to turn toward him, he kept his arms about her and his gaze upon her. "What?"

After a moment, he shook his head again. "Nothing. I'm just being silly again." Bryant slid his hands up to cup her jaw, brushing his thumbs against her cheeks. "Besides, I told you before. A woman as beautiful as you should certainly be used to stares." The smile resurfaced, and she closed her eyes briefly as he put a light kiss to the side of her head. When he fell...he fell _hard_. "Alright. I'll be gone for a few hours. You should get ready while I'm gone; we'll eat and then leave as soon as I return. To be honest..." He glanced around. "George has been after me for quite some time to take a break."

She stepped out of his way as he released her and followed him out of the kitchen, Azrael hopping up from her pillow in the corner to scamper after them. Together, the "girls" stood near the front door and watched the man of the house gather the work he had been doing for the past few weeks. Flare was silent, her eyes trailing after him everywhere he went, all the while cursing that mounting irony. By the time he was finally ready to leave, and he made to do so, she couldn't stop herself. She caught his elbow loosely in her hand. "...Bryant."

He paused and turned to her. In an instant, all of his attention was back on her. How – why – did he always do that? She studied him for a few seconds. At last, though, she stepped forward, stood on her toes, and pressed her lips to his. She could tell that she caught him off-guard, but that did not keep his free arm from wrapping around her back and holding her close. He returned the kiss, and she lost count of the seconds that passed before it finally broke.

"What was that about?" he asked, a little breathlessly.

"...I decided to bid you a traditional farewell."

He smiled at her, brushing imaginary strands of hair from her face. "You act as though this is the last time you'll see me," he chuckled, obviously making an off-handed remark. "I'll only be gone for a few hours."

She almost gave a bitter laugh. There was no end to it. "Are you complaining?" she asked, the cheekiness of her tone masking the truth of her thoughts.

Bryant replied with that same, little smile he seemed to save for her. "I have a good feeling about today. I think a trip to Iselia will, indeed, benefit you."

The smile she formed was forced. "...Here's hoping." And with that, she watched him leave. The door closed after him, she watched through the window until he turned a corner, and she was alone. ...And there was no time to lose.

Flare drifted up to the room she had used. She stood in the center of it and just looked around for a moment, before going into action. She found the clothing she had come to Altamira wearing and donned it, folding her other ensemble neatly and setting it aside on the trimly made bed. She paused there a moment, smoothing the fabric. Azrael, sensing that something wasn't quite right, jumped up to mew at her. "...No. I'm sorry." The half-elf scratched at the furry head. "I can't."

And so it was, drawing up her hood and giving the house one last look, that Flare disappeared out into the streets of Altamira. She intended to travel through shadows and alleyways, making her way to the harbor, so no one would see her, but she didn't get far. She had scarcely left the door and moved into the hidden strip between it and the surrounding homes when she came upon a familiar figure.

There stood Fang, looking as though he had been waiting there for her. He wore a cloak similar to hers, the same clasp holding it secure at the bade of his neck, but his hood was down, and he was smiling softly at her. "I thought you'd come. You've always been one of the most intelligent people I've ever met."

She was silent, looking down. It took her a moment, but she finally leveled her gaze with his. "And Bryant will be left alone?" she asked quietly.

"You have my word. It will be as though none of this ever happened. Bryant, the locket, the mistakes... Nothing." He stepped forward and took her head into his hands. "It's for the best. You belong with us; you could never belong with him. He would never understand." Fang went so far as to pull her into his arms, murmuring right next to her ear, "Welcome home...Lunar Flare."

Over his shoulder, her eyes widened. ...A full name. She had a full name now. The privileges, responsibilities, and respect of a high-ranking officer were now hers. For as long as she could remember, she had been striving for just that.

So why, as she followed her leader toward the harbor to say goodbye to her temporarily normal life, did the triumph feel so hollow?

* * *

Awwww. Poor Raine. ...Poor _Regal_. He's so happy about the trip, and you're gonna break his heart. Hasn't he been through enough already?

Raine: Haven't _I_? At _your hands_?

That's very different.

Raine: Oh, yes. How convenient for you.

Yupyup. xD That's how I roll. Read and review, my darlings! -sets out magical cookies of love-


	16. Unresolved

Finally, a new chapter. Sorry about that; long hiatus, I guess.

Raine: Not long enough.

Trust me. It was long enough for me. I can't go so long without writing. It kills me.

Raine: Promises, promises.

...Wow. Thanks, Raine. x.X ANYWAY. To the people who actually might LOVE me... Hope you enjoy Romeo's heartbreak! ...wait...that came out wrong...

* * *

Never had a day spent at the Company felt to its devoted president to be so utterly, restlessly, intolerably long as it did that morning. Regal forced himself to concentrate on getting the work done, and doing so both efficiently and effectively, but the hours did not pass quite so easily as they tended to. He supposed that it was, perhaps, because he never had something - someone - to look forward to after his work was done. The Lezareno _was _his entire life, or had been, before Raine. It had taken his thought, his time, his effort, and his dedication, and he had given all of this freely and willingly. Maybe George was right - and everyone else, for that matter - and he had worked far too much. He had joked once with his manager, when the elder man had teasingly suggested he find himself a woman to settle down with instead, that he was already married to his Company. Of course, at that time, it had also been a bit of a dodge; Alicia had still been very fresh, very painful in his mind. George, he knew, had been trying subtley to nudge him forward, but he had not been ready, had thought he would never _be _ready. Now…things were different.

"I don't believe I've seen you this anxious to _leave _the office in a good twenty years, Master Regal."

Regal glanced up from the stack of papers he was quickly setting in order and filing away. A tame smile tugged at his lips. "I haven't had reason to be in a good twenty years," he replied easily, his eyes dropping back to his work. Sort, stack, tuck away. He paused again after a second, straightening up briefly. "George, that matter of the Casino. That has been sorted out and settled, yes?"

George looked amused. "Quite well, if I may say so. You handled it marvelously, as always."

He chuckled softly. "Hardly. I did little in that situation; take the credit yourself, old friend. You deserve it more than I for keeping this place steady through everything. Even now; I could not have balanced all that is happening on my own. Thank you, George."

The vice-president shook his head. "It's wonderful to see you in such high spirits, sir. And I'm glad to know that you are finally taking someone's advice and giving yourself a break."

At the thought of the reason for those "high spirits", Regal found himself with another tiny smile of reflection. This did not, however, escape George's notice. That much was clear with the other man's next, off-handed inquiry: "How _is _Ms. Sage, by the way?"

"Confused, a little nervous, but we're making progress, I think. This venture to Iselia should help to remind her of some things. At the least, it might help her better understand who she is. At this point, I'm optimistic."

"In more ways than one, it seems."

This made Regal pause again. Up until now, he had been tactfully sidestepping the implications and wheedling. However, now he blinked up at George. "What do you mean?" he half-chuckled.

The smile George was wearing held both amusement as well as an unabashed gladness; a happiness for his employer. And, perhaps, a touch of cheekiness. He could get away with such teasing, and they both knew it. "It is not only you who has helped her, Master Regal. Her presence has also done wonders for you."

Regal shook his head. "You're getting bold with time," he mused. "I am admittedly glad to have one of my old friends here, and to feel useful for more than just shuffling papers and appeasing ruffled noblemen."

"Is that all, Master Regal?" pressed the outspoken manager, the corners of his eyes creasing in lines of silent laughter at his master's expense.

He stood, taking the much-thinned stack of papers across the room to a different cabinet. "I'm not sure what you're getting at," he replied diplomatically, every movement calm and collected, betraying no hint to benefit his prying friend.

"Every time you say her name, you do so almost reverently. Every time she comes up as a topic of conversation, you smile - just like that." George gestured to him, and Regal realized with another chuckle that he was, indeed, smiling faintly at the papers he really wasn't looking too closely at. "Or, if there is a word spoken against her, you defend her to the very last, humiliating the poor fool who dared. I may be old, but such things are not yet lost to senility."

The Duke closed the cabinet. "She's a good friend, George, and I'll not have her name smeared by fools who do not know her as I do."

"And how is that, Master Regal?" George practically purred at him.

"What?"

"How well _do _you know her?" A smirk had replaced the comfortable smile.

Regal was silent, pretending to scan the books settled on a nearby shelf. He knew her quirks, her passions, her voice and the manner in which she spoke. He knew her face, her intelligent eyes, the way she held herself. He knew her insecurities and vulnerabilities. He knew her questions, the foods she liked. He knew her scent, her warmth when he held her, and the taste of her kiss, now… "Well enough," he replied at length, sending a brief, _almost _secretive smile over his shoulder.

When he turned around, he smoothed his shirt and glanced about the office. It was nearly lunchtime, and it seemed as though all of the loose ends he had spoken of were being wrapped up quite nicely. That, and he was putting an end to George's bold, little game, for all that the latter still smiled knowingly at him. He was his oldest and longest-standing friend, the one who probably knew him best in the world. Despite the horrible circumstances surrounding Alicia, that friendship had never died. Strained, faltered, perhaps; but never broken.

"When should we expect you back?" asked the elder man, linking his hands behind his back. "Just so we might have everything pristine and cleaned anew for your return."

"I'm not certain. It will depend on Raine, and how well - or not - she reacts to the village. It could be as little as three days; it could be a week. I will try to send word back here if I can." As he spoke, he started toward the elevator and tapped the button. "I know I'm leaving the Lezareno in good hands, however. You'll probably get more done without me here to get in the way."

"Perhaps." George quirked another little smile, watching his president cross the room. "Take all the time you desire, Master Regal." Something in the way he said, "desire", made Regal shake his head, chuckling in silence. Few employees could get away with all of this in regard to noblemen and -women. He was glad they had an unconventional relationship, though it did earn him a place as the butt of jokes like this sometimes.

"I suppose we'll see how it goes, yes?" He stepped into the elevator and turned to regard his vice president. "…Thank you, George." For more reasons than one, though he didn't feel he had to outright say that; it was understood in the silence.

George dipped his head in respectful acknowledgement. "It is what I'm here for. And, Master Regal?"

"Yes?"

The laugh lines around his eyes returned. "Congratulations, and tell Ms. Sage that I am grateful to her." With that, the elevator started to move, and the other man disappeared from view, leaving Regal to his own musings.

He stepped into the lobby and accepted a bundle of new papers to take home from one of the receptionists, who wished him a cheerful farewell that he returned in good humor. Most of the employees he passed, actually, smiled and made sure to say their own goodbyes, and he met them all warmly. And so it was that he left the building, enjoyed the tram ride, and began the brisk walk home in a good mood.

What had happened to Raine was horrible, and it was a tragedy - but was George right? It seemed that it had also, in some strange way, been a blessing. He, too, was glad she had come. Had none of this happened, he would never have gotten the chance to get close to her, to get to know her. He still didn't know exactly what would happen when she did return to her right mind, but as he had stated, he was optimistic. It wasn't her personality or tastes that had changed; only her perception of her own past. He would hope and pray both for her restoration - and for the continued right to hold her close, and another chance to kiss her.

When at last he turned a corner and came upon his own home, he was not even aware of the smile he wore. Home at last, where they would share the midday meal, then be on their way. He felt like an excited schoolboy as he pushed through the door.

He had to consciously keep himself from calling her by her real name, but when he had shifted back out of his public mindset, he closed the door behind him and glanced about. "Flare? I apologize, that took a little longer than I thought, I…" He trailed off, though. Where was she?

All of the lights were extinguished. Usually, he would have found her curled up on the couch with a book in her hands, and Azrael nestled in under her arm, or at her feet. Now, though, neither the woman nor the kitten were anywhere to be found. He tilted his head and started up the stairs; perhaps she was in her room.

"Flare? I know you're getting tired of being asked this," he chuckled as he trailed down the hall toward her door, "but are you hungry?" The noble rapped gently on the wood, listening for her answer.

None came. The absent-minded smile faded slowly, melting into a frown. "…Flare…?" Carefully, he pushed open the door. She was not inside, but what was startled him.

The first thing to meet him was Azrael, with an insistent mew and a pounce onto his foot. She pawed at his pants leg, looking straight up at him with wide, blue eyes. The frown deepened as he scooped her up. "What happened, little one?" he asked softly, stepping further into the room. "Where is Raine?" His eyes trailed from the creature scrabbling up onto his shoulder, to the neatly folded clothing laying on the just as neatly made bed. Slowly, he drifted toward it.

It was the same outfit that she had been wearing that morning when he had seen her last, and it appeared as though the rest of the wardrobe he had picked out for her was gathered nearby. On top of the shirt on the bed, there lay a square of paper, and he reached out for it.

Blue eyes scanned it, and they read the brief message over and over again as it sank in. The bundle of papers from the Company slipped from his slackened grip, scattering all over the floor and startling Azzy, already unnerved by the morning's events, and the odd aura her "daddy" was now giving off.

Just like his dream… She was gone…

_Raine…?_

_

* * *

_

OHNO! D:

Raine: Huh. I suppose this is where the "adventure" starts.

Yeah, more or less. You went AWOL, and I don't think lover-boy's gonna sit for that.

Raine: Of course not. This is you we're talking about.

I thought it was Regal.

Raine: ...You make Lloyd look intelligent.

D'aww. That's not very nice; poor Lloyd.

Raine: -facepalm-


End file.
